


where your home is

by springtine



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Gekka Sakuya, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springtine/pseuds/springtine
Summary: July would tell August that his boat was full now, but August knows he can still have another person aboard. If he could still help out, then why not? Sakuya was such a sweet kid, he didn't deserve to treated like that.August takes Sakuya under his wing. Some things change and some things stay.
Relationships: Utsuki Chikage & Mikage Hisoka & August & Sakuma Sakuya
Comments: 34
Kudos: 105





	1. welcome home

"Welcome home," April droned out once he heard the door open. It was a comforting cycle that all of them had grown into, after August’s insistence. His ears picked up two voices at the door, and even December stirred from where he was leaning on April.

"Here, here!"

"Is it really okay?" The voice was a child's, accompanied by light footsteps.

April bit back a groan. He knew August knew better, and he wouldn't bring home a kid. But sometimes, August's heart worked more than his mind. He was ready to scold August. They weren't a charity, nor were they people that children should feel safe around.

"Yeah! They won't mind!" August's voice preceded his appearance. _We do mind._

He grinned at April, who just gave him an exhausted look, "I'm home!"

A small boy hid behind August, blinking at the two on the couch curiously. He clenched at August's jacket, trying to make himself smaller. The light gray hoodie he wore had a few fraying edges, and his blue shorts reached his knees. The redheaded boy didn't look unique, though April did spot the purple bruise that peeked out from his short's leg and went into his mismatched socks.

"You brought home a kid," April hissed, making the kid flinch.

August didn't wilt at that as he gently pushed the kid in front of him, "Now, now. You're scaring him, April."

"August, please. You know we can't keep him."

August ignored his pleas and instead patted at the kid's fluffy hair, "The cranky one is April, and the sleepy one is December."

The kid bowed, "H-Hello! I'm Sakuya Sakuma, ten years old! Please take care of me!"

"August."

"I'll explain later, okay? Play nice!" August gently pushed Sakuya further into the room and went off to make dinner.

April groaned and went back to working on his laptop, but not before shoving December off him. December flopped on the couch's other side, not bothering to wake up.

The boy stood there awkwardly before getting a blanket on a table and draping it across the sleeping man. December snuggled into the warm blanket as Sakuya stepped back with a small smile.

Sakuya stood there silently. After a few minutes, April sighed, "Go sit somewhere already."

The kid yelped before looking around and taking the plush chair near December. April ignored him, typing away at his laptop. The faint sounds of August humming and occasional curse broke the silence. The kid fidgeted in his seat. December only woke up when the smell of smoke floated in from the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the scent before he spotted Sakuya.

"...Thank you for the blanket," The smile on Sakuya's face was as warm as the sun.

"You're welcome!"

December moves closer to April to make a bit more space, patting at it, "Come here."

Cautiously, Sakuya stood up from the chair and sat beside December, who then draped the other half of the blanket on him. April resisted the urge to move away from December, who once again leaned on him. Sakuya seemed shocked at the action, but when April glanced at them later, they'd both fallen asleep.

August entered the room with an apron over his clothes and a plate of some burnt food. He cooed at the sight of December and Sakuya. April closed his laptop and leveled the other agent with a stare.

"What's with the kid?"

August poked at the burnt food with a frown, "So, I was working my shift at the candy store earlier, right? Then little Sakkun came up to the counter and gave me a red envelope and _"Mr. Assassin, can you please take out Uncle and Auntie? They keep calling me mean names and keep inviting weird people"_."

April raised an eyebrow, "So, how did the kid even know you're...?"

August broke off one of the burnt pieces with a fork and chewed on it thoughtfully, "He's been taken in by the target since he’s their nephew, and he saw me when I broke in. I would normally take out witnesses, but this is different."

The sentence was punctuated with a sharp stab into the burnt food. April himself wrinkled his nose. Those types of guardians were always so awful, and he knows August shares the same sentiment. Neither of them had a good home life before joining the Organization.

The older agent exhaled, "I've seen him around, you know. He's such a sweet boy. He doesn't deserve to be treated that way."

"You know the Organization won't allow you to take him in," April frowned, the ever realist that he was.

August beamed at him as he waved the fork in front of him, "That's where you're wrong! What do you think about training him, April? He'll look for information for us, and he doesn't have to stay with relatives anymore!”

August's eyes were pleading as he smiled at the other agent. He's grown fond of the kid, and April could see why. August always had a soft spot for children, after all. April knows December wouldn’t mind, especially if he got another person to call his pillow. April didn't shy away from the thought of having another hand to help in information gathering since it was arduous work, but April didn't want to train the kid himself. Sakuya didn't look that special, but April supposed he could consider it if August was so persistent on taking him in.

"Take responsibility," August's smile brightened at that, and April felt happy at knowing that he caused the warm smile.

"Of course! Oh, dinner's ready too!"

"Did you burn it again..." December muttered, not bothering to open his eye.

August gasped, "Of course not! My cooking's getting better!"

"It's not," December yawned. The older huffed, "I'll let Sakkun be the judge!"

"Hey, Sakkun, it's time for dinner," August shook the kid gently. August looks so gentle with Sakuya that April knows people wouldn't believe that he could kill targets with trained ease.

The food is as burnt as always. August had always claimed that burning food would have a smoky flavor that made it unique, but it was more of having charcoal in the food. But April didn't mind it. It was the taste of home for him, after all.

August looks ruffled when Sakuya starts crying after taking one bite of the food, eyes frantic. But the kid, with a smile, croaked out, "It's okay, Mr. August. I just haven't had food this tasty since Dad died."

August seemed to understand, rubbing circles on the boy's back. December pushed a tissue roll in their direction, silent as ever.

"You're gonna be alright, kiddo." April knew there was no guarantee they'd wake up tomorrow, but when August said it, it felt like he could believe in it somehow.

_“When’s your birthday?”_

_“March 9!”_

_“Oh! So, you just turned 10! Did you have a party?”_

_“...No, Auntie and Uncle were too busy.”_

_“Oh… Say, how about I cook for you? What’s your favorite food?”_

_“Napolitan! My dad used to make it with lots of hotdogs!”_

_“Alright, we’re going to have a feast tonight, March.”_

_“March…?”_

_“It’s like a codename! You see, April has his birthday on April 15, and December has his birthday on December 3.”_

_“Oh! When’s your birthday, August?”_

_“Mine’s on August 8.”_

_“So, April has his birthday first? What does he like?”_

_“Spices! Oh, but he has his own stash…. wanna go shopping for a gift for him?”_

_“Yes!”_

  
  


“A theater troupe?” April questions, not lifting his eyes from his laptop. March abandons his schoolwork as he beams at April, “Yeah! The Manager said I could move in tonight, but I wanted to tell you guys first!”

“That’s so sweet!” August laughs, coming out of the kitchen with a spatula in hand. He pats March’s shoulder, “Look at March, _Marching away_ from his family!”

April couldn’t hide a groan at that, as March laughs, “I’ll still come to visit though!”

“You’re the best pillow,” December sleepily says from the couch, pouting.

April rolled his eyes, “What did I expect from you?”

December only snorts and turns over. 

“So, what’s this troupe’s name?” August asks, taking a seat at the table. 

“Mankai Company! They were a huge thing back in the day, but…” March trails off, staring at the answer sheets, “I’m the only member now.”

“Are you serious?” August asks, eyes wide. March tapped his pencil at the math equation with a frown, scratching one part of the equation in, “Yes… it’s a bit scary. But I’ve already memorized the script Manager gave me for the show tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too fast?” April asks, eyebrow raised. August beams at March, “What time? We’ll watch it tomorrow!”

“It’s at 2 pm!”

“Do you seriously think December could stay awake? He’d probably pass out the moment he sits,” April gestures at the sleeping December, proving his point. August laughs, “I’ll give him marshmallows, don’t worry.”

“Is something burning?” March asks, sniffing the air. August quickly stands up with a few curses slipping out of his mouth as he’d left dinner burning again. March chuckles, before working on his assignment. 

April does a quick search on the Mankai Company, and he’s surprised to find a website from the 90s. The troupe doesn’t have a good prospect as he searches through news articles sorted by how recent they were. Even the current picture of the theater itself looks like it’s falling apart.

“Are you sure about this?” April asks. March looks up at the agent, “What do you mean?”

“The theater looks awful.”

“Oh,” March smiles at April, “I’m sure. I’ve dreamed of standing on the stage for so long, and I can’t just let it go now. I’m willing to work hard to bring it back to how it was before.”

“And we’ll be with you all the way!” August slides the plates of burnt dumplings between them with a wide smile. He ruffles March’s hair as he sits down, “Look at our little boy, April! It feels like he’s all grown up!”

“I won’t be going away, though,” March says. “You’re still my family.”

August softly chuckles, “It feels it was just yesterday that April was a brat because you stole his blanket.”

April glared at August, “I am not a brat.”

“Don’t forget us, okay? Even if you’re living as a civilian now,” August sounded melancholic. April had always known August wished to live a normal life away from the Organization. It was one reason why he insisted that March still go to school and try to live life as normally as he can. No one who joined the Organization could completely leave it. Whether they liked it or not, March was still alive. It was routine for Sakuya to talk about his day as August prepared dinner. That was the only semblance of ordinary and civilian life in their hideout.

“I won’t ever forget my family,” March affirmed. “Gathering information is the least I can do after you took me in.”

“Don’t push yourself,” April says. “Don’t let yourself get caught.”

“Of course, I won’t.”

“Is the play different from those you recite?” December asks, sitting up.

March beams at him, “It’s more of a monologue! But… I guess Kamekichi counts as another person?”

“Kamekichi…?”

“He’s the Manager’s parrot! He can recite lines too!”

“Wow! I’ve never heard of a bird acting!” August says in wonder. “Is it like the ones that repeat what you say?”

“Oh, no! He was actually helping me with my delivery earlier!” 

“Seriously?” April says in disbelief.

August glances at the kitchen before turning back, “Oh well, we still have time before the rice is cooked. Why don’t you give us a sneak peek of tomorrow?”

“You’re not yet done with your assignment,” April reminds, even with March quickly cleaning up his assignments. August stands up to ruffle his hair across the table with a grin, “C’mon, _dad_! It’s a weekend tomorrow. Surely he can skip out on schoolwork for now?”

“Yeah, _dad_ ,” December snorts, sitting down at the table and getting a dumpling. 

“And why am I the dad? If anything, it should be August.”

August gasps in fake offense, “Excuse me! But I’m very young and hip!”

December huffed a laugh, making August pout. These days were the best, none of them would give it up. As long as the warm laughs of August and March filled their home, along with December’s light snores and April’s grumbling, they felt like the world was a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have fallen into gekkagumi hell and i can't get out. i have several ideas for this, which mainly follow the main storyline, but this will be updated irregularly.
> 
> you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fourinspades) or drop your comments, thoughts, theories on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/fourinspades).


	2. your soft spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has his own way of looking after the theater that had made him feel hopeful for the future.

Sakyo doesn’t expect an audience to show up. The front of the theater is as barren and quiet as ever, devoid of the life it held eight years ago. He hates to see the Mankai Company go down in shambles, but even then, he couldn’t do anything anymore. The loan has been used up, and there were no more actors left. He’s thought of standing on the stage multiple times, but he was past his prime.

Sakyo didn’t have any potential left in him, so there was no way he could stand on the stage. He hadn’t seen the new recruit, though, from Matsukawa’s call, it seems like the kid had potential. Matsukawa was as vague as ever, though he’s noted that the kid has already memorized the script from a single reading. Kamekichi has also taken a liking to him, even helping him out with his delivery.

Sakyo hopes the kid can save the theater. He’s clutching at worn charm from years ago as he turns the block. He hopes the charm still had some wishes left. He wished something or someone would save the theater he holds close to his heart. 

His breath hitches when he sees a young brunette talking with a bubbly green-haired man animatedly. There are two other men behind them. The bespectacled one, with a huge bag of marshmallows, looks like he’s about to drop the sleepy white-haired man on the ground.

Sakyo steels himself as he approaches the group, “Hey.”

He simultaneously feels his heart flutter at seeing those eyes again, and his stomach curls up in dread from the men’s piercing gazes. They looked harmless, but their auras told otherwise. Sakyo knows their types, he’s faced them in his work. They were the most dangerous types of people. They wouldn't bat an eyelash while they commit a crime. 

“Do you have any business here?”

He spots the woman clutching a hastily made poster in her hands, as the green-haired man gestured to the theater, “There’s a show, isn’t there?”

“Yes, but this theater’s about to be torn down in a while."

“What?!"

There’s still a little bit of the pipsqueak from years ago, but she’s grown into a beautiful woman. He’s not sure if she remembers him, but judging from her reaction, Sakyo would guess she didn’t. _ All for the better. _

“What do you mean it’ll be torn down?”

“Exactly what it means.” 

“It’s an excavator!” 

Izumi jumps at the rumbling sound of the machine approaching their way. The green-haired men only raised their eyebrows. To his credit, the sleepyhead doesn't even stir when the street is shaken by the construction machine. 

“Please stop!” Matsukawa yells as he tries to catch up with the excavator.

“Boss! Can I demolish it?” Sakoda asks excitedly. 

Matsukawa pales, “Please stop! We actually got an audience today! It’s also the first show of our new actor! Please stop, Mr. Furuichi!”

Sakyo considers it. Five tickets aren’t a substantial amount to lessen the theater’s debt, but every penny would help. He’d let them watch the show. He doesn’t even know if the white-haired man would be awake for the show if his companions didn’t keep him awake.

“Sakoda, stop.”

“You’re the boss, boss!”

Sakyo sighs as he turns to the manager, “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Sakyo sits a bit far away from the group. Izumi is one seat away from the three men. The moment the white-haired man sits down, he’s already snoring. The bespectacled man shoves the pack of marshmallows to the other man with a disgusted expression. The bubbly man only laughs as they sit down in between the sleepyhead. He also munches on the marshmallows in addition to feeding the sleeping one, trying to keep him awake. Sakyo has half a mind to scold them for eating, but he decides it’s not worth it.

The moment the velvet stage curtains are raised, Sakyo’s filled with a familiar feeling of thrill. It’s been so long since the spotlights have illuminated an actor. He still spots the duct tape they put for the center stage. Looks like some things haven’t changed.

Sakuya Sakuma looks average, though he can’t tell if he’s a middle schooler or highschooler. Sakyo notes that his costume is way too big for him. The hems and sleeves of the school uniform are rolled up enough so he wouldn’t trip, and if he squinted, there were some safety pins on the costume. The stage set looks awful, with the cardboard set looking folded and faded.

“Hey, I’m Romeo Kadota! I’m a freshman in highschool!”

Sakuma definitely has some background in acting. Sakyo notes the way he moves on the stage. His steps are silent and graceful. He knows how to project his voice to the empty theater, and his delivery isn't amateur. There’s a tinge of reality in his acting that draws the audience in. It’s like he has enough experience standing on a stage or enough life experiences to draw acting from.

Sakyo could only sigh as Kamekichi flies in and perches himself on the actor’s shoulder. He hears a chuckle and wonders how this could be amusing. They were indeed short on actors, but did Matsukawa have to make Kamekichi the second actor?

Sakyo knows that familiar grin on the boy’s face as he moves across the stage. He seemed so happy to just stand on the stage. It was the same one he had when he stood in for a sick ensemble member, on Yukio’s insistence. Despite being a stand-in, he felt ecstatic with the lights shining down on him as he pretended to be sailing on the sea with the others. Yukio had praised him for his performance, and Sakyo couldn’t stop grinning for days.

“Thank you for watching!” 

Sakyo notices that he isn’t even panting from exertion as he bows. The shorter green-haired man gives him a standing ovation, clapping like a child. Both Izumi and the bespectacled man clap at a more languid pace. There’s a weak clapping that follows after the white-haired man was nudged awake.

Sakuma straightens from his bow upon hearing the applause, and he smiles brightly upon spotting the audience. He doesn’t reach out to them until the stage lights dim and the theater lights are turned on.

The boy runs off the stage and greets his family with a warm smile, “You guys actually came!”

“Of course we would!” The bubbly man hugs him. “We aren’t gonna miss your first show!”

“This is a disaster,” the bespectacled man rolled his eyes, gesturing at the white-haired man who was hugging the now empty bag of marshmallows. 

The sleepyhead glances at the young actor and mutters sleepily, “You did well. I’ll give you marshmallows later.”

Sakuma was a good actor, but there was no way he could keep the theater afloat without a director and Matsukawa’s management. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else with the bills of the theater and the dorms, on top of the huge debt. Shutting down the theater was the best move for now. 

Sakyo stands up with a heavy heart, “Shall we demolish it?”

Izumi stands up with a frown, “Are you serious?! Didn’t you watch the play? I see potential in him!”

"Have you seen the state of this theater? There’s no way he can keep it going alone. It’s impossible for a single actor to keep a steady stream of profit.”

“That’s true…” Izumi trails off, biting her lip.

“Why not recruit new actors?” The bespectacled man asks, tone neutral. 

Sakyo shakes his head, “No use if the director will run again.”

“Again…?” Sakuma mutters, frowning. 

“Yukio isn’t like that!” Matsukawa appears from the curtains.

“Oh really? Why do you think this theater is in this state then?” Sakyo growls, causing a whimper from Matsukawa. “You may have all the best actors in the world, but without a director, this theater will shut down sooner or later.”

“Director… that’s Dad, right?”

Matsukawa squints at her, “...wait, are you Yukio’s daughter? Where is he?!”

She clutched the poster, “He… hasn’t come home in eight years.”

“Oh…”

So, Yukio was missing. Sakyo couldn’t help but feel a bit down at hearing that, but he couldn’t do anything now. 

“This conversation is over.”

“Wait!” Sakuma pins down Sakyo with a gaze that would intimidate a lesser man. “We just have to get actors and a director, right?”

“That’s the short of it.” Sakyo braces himself, before going into an explanation why it would take more than just actors and a director to completely pay off the debt and keep up the maintenance of both the dorms and theater. Despite the prospects looking dim, both Izumi and Sakuma have expressions of determination at the end of his explanation. 

Izumi isn’t able to fool Sakyo with how her voice comes out and how wooden her posture is as she lies through her teeth, “How about I bring new actors and a director? My dad left me some contacts before he left!”

Izumi was obviously grasping at the straws, but he went along with it, “How many?”

With the way her face falls at his question, she hasn’t thought of this. She bites her lip, failing to subtly glance at the boy’s family. The bespectacled one shakes his head as the other green-haired man gives her an apologetic smile. 

"Uh… two! I can get two now!”

“...Sundown. Your deadline is at sundown.” Their faces light up, but he continues. “Two members, and I won’t demolish the signboard. For now.”

“Let’s go!”

Sakyo feels alone in the theater as Izumi, Matsukawa, and Sakuma run out of there. The white-haired man’s snores are barely audible, and the other two cover up their presence well. Izumi didn’t get the acting gene, but he sees his own stubbornness in her. Maybe she’d be able to revive the theater and breathe life back into the barren theater.

“Haha, you’re not actually that mean,” The one with lilac eyes chuckles. 

Sakyo raised an eyebrow, "What makes you think that?"

He pats the bespectacled man's back with a grin, "I live with this guy! He looks mean, but he has a super soft spot for Sakuya!"

"You'll nag me if he gets hurt."

"See?" He laughs, despite the reply.

_ He wasn't like that. _ Maybe he was, with how much Azami liked getting himself in trouble, but he wasn't going to admit it. 

He glances at the clock above the doors, "Ah, it seems we have to go."

"Huh. That took longer than expected."

"Up we go, Hisoka!" The bubbly one sing-songs as he dangles a smaller bag of marshmallows in front of the sleeping man. Instantly, the one named Hisoka stands up, already opening the bag.

"Take care of our little boy, Furuichi."

Despite the sweet tone, Sakyo knows the underlying threat. He's not about to challenge a person even more dangerous than he is. But even then, he's resolved to protect the theater in his own way, and that extended to the actors. 

"You don't need to tell me."

"Thank you so much."

They exchange goodbyes and Sakyo is left alone in the theater's lobby. He sighs as he remembers the old days. The theater was overflowing with people every show, and the applause could be heard all the way to the street. It hurts to watch the audiences decrease, the actors leave, and the troupe fall apart.

Sakyo wished he could do something more to save the troupe. But for now, he'd clutch onto the charm and watch over the newborn Spring Troupe from the shadows. He hears multiple footfalls as the clock in the lobby nears 6 pm. This is it, this is the beginning of the newborn Mankai Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chikage 🤝 sakyo  
> nagging when they care
> 
> hope you're all enjoying this ride!


	3. is fencing the same as swordfighting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itaru wonders what's in Sakuya's SSR card.

Sakuya definitely has some exclusive SSR story to account for his OP stats. He’s already memorized the script before they read it as a troupe. But he does have it open and scribbles some notes on it during rehearsal. His delivery is good, though Itaru can’t really say that he knows what’s good in theater. But the way Izumi nods and smiles as he delivers his lines tells him everything. 

He can definitely see why he was picked to be the lead. He’s the best actor in their hastily gathered Spring Troupe.

Sakuya can reign in Masumi’s sharp tongue with a few choice words that make Itaru think he’s used to this. There’s a certain air around him that makes Itaru think that he isn’t just a high school student. His steps are silent, and he’s always watching everyone. It was a bit unnerving, but it doesn’t bother him after living in the dorms for several days. Itaru feels a mask on him, and he finds it strange that Sakuya hasn’t cracked even after several weeks. Was he used to putting up a front? Then, why was he so guarded in the first place?

Itaru thinks that maybe he’s a reincarnated mage, a runaway prince, an android, or even a spy! He knows it sounds ridiculous, but where was the loss in imagining it? There has to be an explanation as to why his stats are so OP, right? Unless he’s one of those gifted kids—but Itaru's instincts tell him otherwise.

Even with morning practices and Sakuya’s occasional tips, they don’t escape Yuzo’s harsh critiques.

Itaru felt uncomfortable with being laid bare under the experienced actor’s gaze, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t have any passion for theater. The kids’ passion for acting is indeed contagious, and he found himself thinking that he could stand on stage with them even for a while. But at the same time, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to them. They were just so passionate. Itaru only saw their passion in the way he’d replay his games with multiple restrictions—there was no way he could find the same passion for acting.

Yuzo doesn’t pull any punches, even with the obvious flinch of the actors. The old man doesn’t immediately speak when he turns to Sakuya. 

“You’re not honest. I don’t believe that damn smile and act of yours for a moment.”

He doesn’t seem too shocked by the feedback, but he visibly withers. Itaru glances at him. Sakuya didn’t seem like he’d lie, but looks were deceiving after all. Who knew what he lied about? The others seemed surprised by Yuzo’s comment too.

Itaru finds ranking for an event a welcome distraction, but it doesn’t completely take his mind off earlier. Theater was cool, but he just can’t motivate himself enough to last one show before quitting the troupe. Maybe if an angel gave him a boost to his acting stat, then maybe he’d stay.

When Sakuya knocks on his door with Citron behind him, his expression feels less restricted than usual. The childish determination on his face feels a lot more natural than the reliable leader in rehearsal. Itaru sometimes forgets Sakuya is still in school with how adult-like he presents himself—even more put together than he is. It’s a nice change.

Sleeping in the theater feels like a school trip. Talking until they fall asleep is something he’s never experienced, considering he never went on a school trip of his own volition. His sister would always kick him out of the house if she got wind of the trip.

Itaru isn’t surprised to know that everyone else feels disheartened at Yuzo’s words. They were really harsh, but he did understand it. They were short on time, and they needed to get a full house on closing night. 

“I was honestly scared of overstepping my boundaries, so I didn’t want to impose too much on you guys,” Sakuya admits timidly.

Tsuzuru blinks, before chuckling, “Are you really worried about that? You’re the most experienced actor out of all of us. We don’t mind getting advice from you.”

“Two breads are better than one!”

“...heads?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t be scared of helping out,” Itaru pipes in, “We’re all in this together, after all.”

“I will!”

“What does Yuzo mean with you not being honest?” Tsuzuru asks as they head back to the dorms with their pillows and blankets in the morning.

Sakuya lightly laughs, “...It’s easier to fake emotions… since showing your true emotions can be dangerous sometimes.”

...That did not sound like Sakuya at all. _What the hell_.

Before either Tsuzuru or Itaru could react, Sakuya had a bright smile on his face, “But Yuzo’s right! I think an honest delivery works more effectively! You’re bound to reach the audience if you’re genuine!”

“Wearing your chart on your sleeve is very effective!” Citron beams.

“Right? Though I think it’s hard to cry genuinely on stage… I can’t do it.”

“Worry not, Sakuya! I shall teach you the art of dramatic and realistic crying!”

Itaru glances at Tsuzuru, who only shrugs.

Rehearsals progress more as Sakuya isn’t scared to voice out his critiques. He also gets the rest of the troupe into a discussion when there’s a bit of disagreement on some scenes. It causes some scenes to change, and the changes breathe life into the play. Izumi looks over their rehearsals with a smile, and Itaru notices that she doesn’t write as much now. 

It’s going along nicely. But Itaru feels the guilt weigh more and more on him. Did he really have the right to stand with them on the stage if he doesn’t feel as passionate as they are?

Yes, apparently. Though Itaru doesn’t breathe theater as Sakuya does, he finds himself falling for the endearing family skit they pulled off. These kids were definitely stubborn, and they weren’t going to let him leave without a fight. He won’t say it out loud, but the Spring Troupe has definitely wormed their way into his heart. If they believed in him this much, then maybe he could believe in them too. 

Itaru stops by a grocery after work that day. Convenience stores were indeed true to their name, but they were always so expensive. Groceries would always have a sale, and he’d be able to buy more without the staff giving him weird looks.

Itaru fills the cart with his usual potato chips, pizza rolls, energy bars, and drinks. He’s giving the chips section a second look when he spots a familiar gray suit. “Senpai?”

Chikage stops mid-way from grabbing a pack of spicy senbei off the shelf to glance at him with mild surprise. “Oh, Chigasaki. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Chikage sometimes dropped by the coffee machine by Itaru’s desk since the coffee machine on his floor was always broken. Itaru may have unlocked his SSR card since they met too much to be considered a coincidence. Not that he minded it. He considers Chikage a bit more of an acquaintance than their other coworkers. He wasn’t nosy. Itaru definitely appreciated that.

“Well, I’m feeling a bit kind today and decided to buy my roommates some snacks,” He says, putting a spicy flavor of the snack he sometimes saw the director give Sakuya. It wasn’t the spicier variation that he liked, but he supposes it’s okay. 

He could still feel his senior’s gaze as he picked a shrimp flavored snack for Citron. 

“What’s wrong, senpai?”

Chikage then averts his gaze with an unusually soft look, “That snack just reminded me of someone.”

“They must have a spicy tongue then?” Itaru offers.

Chikage hums, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

"Huh."

“You don’t like curry, Chigasaki?” Chikage chuckles when Itaru’s face scrunches up when he picks a _curry_ -flavored snack off the shelf.

“Not really…” Itaru glares at the packet before taking two with a sigh, “but we’ve been eating curry for a _month_. I can’t believe the director has a year’s worth of curry recipes.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Not another currian…”

“...Currian?”

“...but it seems lacking. There’s no real build-up to the climax.”

“Is it because of the script?”

“Plays have more than lines, after all. What can we add?”

“A swordfight?” Among the suggestions of letting Romeo die, stripping, and letting a final boss show up, that’s the suggestion that catches Yuzo’s attention. He eyes Sakuya.

“You know sword fighting?”

“I did a bit of fencing when we were in France…” Sakuya mutters, “but it was just a beginner’s course, though.”

Yuzo shrugs, “Good enough. You know the basic stances?”

“Yes.” 

“France,” Tsuzuru repeats, not believing it. 

Sakuya hums, “We used to move around various countries a lot. We were somewhere in the West the last time.”

“Does that mean you’ve been to Britannia?”

“...Britannia? Oh! Do you mean Britain?”

“Yes, specifically at the lake where the Lady of Lake raised Lancelot at the longitude—"

Tsuzuru stops Itaru before he can completely spiral into game lore.

Sakuya doesn’t even look tired as he matches Masumi’s hits. The way he moves reminds Itaru of an RPG protagonist. He’s well-versed in sword fighting, and if Itaru didn’t know any better, he’d say that he was probably a character from an isekai series. He definitely has the aura for it. 

Masumi can definitely match Sakuya’s slashes, and Yuzo has decided to amp up the sword fight's intricacy. Only a bit, just so it would balance out the other parts. It’s certainly no problem for Masumi, but Sakuya has been lagging. Itaru notices that Citron bites at his lower lip anxiously as he watches Sakuya.

They’re in the middle of the second round of the revised sword fight when Itaru notices that he tends to shield his left side more. It reminds him of Gawain, except that he didn’t have a shield. Whether it was exhaustion or something, he seemed to be going off the moves Yuzo taught. But, strangely enough, the old man didn’t comment on it. A few slashes later, Sakuya defended his left side, despite Masumi going in for a strike at his right that he was supposed to ward off.

The atmosphere shifts. 

Sakuya grabs the wooden sword, drags it down and out of Masumi's hands, forcing him into a lower stance. He held his sword against Masumi’s neck, pressing lightly. There’s no trace of exhaustion in his cold and calculating expression as he swiftly disarmed Masumi. It was unlike the bubbly boy he’s come to know, and it scared Itaru a bit. Izumi yelped in alarm, quickly heading over to stop Sakuya. 

“Sakuya, snap out of it!”

Yuzo narrowed his eyes.

Sakuya drops the swords and looks shocked at his own move, as Masumi rubs at his throat. He steps back as he rubs at his forearm. Masumi visibly looks unnerved, despite the director fussing over him. To everyone’s shock, Masumi didn’t shake off Itaru’s hand.

Sakuya looks like he was going to say something, but he instead looks away. Masumi still had a hand around his neck, with Itaru’s hand on his shoulder. 

Izumi glances at the both of them before turning to Yuzo, “I’m calling off today’s practice.”

The man shrugs, “Sure. The two of them got it down already. Anyway, you need to do something about those instincts of yours, kid. They’re sharp, but you might hurt someone with that.”

“Yes…” 

Citron heads over to Itaru’s room at night for a round of Kario Mart with a plate of onigiri. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he was worried the entire time, giving Itaru the majority of the wins. It doesn’t feel satisfying to have all of the wins when your Player 2 was distracted. They’re on a break when Itaru asks him, “Hey, what’s going on with Sakuya?”

“Hm?”

“I’m worried about the kids, to be honest.”

Rehearsal has once again staggered, with the two leads being awkward with one another. Masumi avoids Sakuya, going out of his way to wake up earlier so he wouldn’t walk with him to school. Sakuya has been out of it during rehearsals, and he’s been heading to his brothers’ place more often.

“Really getting into the parent role, I see,” Citron jokes before his face turns solemn.

“...I do understand, Itaru. I’m worried too… but I don’t think we can do anything for now.”

“Yeah. I don’t think they’ll appreciate us butting into their business.”

“Because of memories, right?”

“Close. It’s boundaries,” Itaru downs the snack with a cola, staring at the start screen on the TV, “And they’re old enough to solve it themselves too.”

“The least we can do is to be there when they need advice!”

“Yeah. I’m not a cool adult, but I do have some tricks up my sleeve.” While Itaru may game all night or use toothpaste on his face when he wakes up, he’s still an adult. He’ll be there for the kids when they need it. He knows Citron shares the same sentiment. They all needed to look after each other.

Itaru’s on the hunt for his charger sometime after his stream ends when he spots Sakuya in the courtyard. He’s sitting on the bench, staring into the full moon as he contemplates something deeply. He was dressed in a black jacket that Itaru hasn’t seen before, instead of his usual hoodie.

Sakuya left shortly after rehearsal, saying that he’ll have dinner at his brothers’. But they knew better. He must still be guilty over what happened in rehearsal the other day. None of them could hide their worry, and even Masumi steals glances towards the doorway during dinner. Despite knowing that he’s safe, they still feel worried for him. He didn’t reply to any of their DMs too.

Squinting at the clock in the lounge, he finds that it’s already 2 am.

“Sakuya?” It’s Izumi.

“Oh! I’m back, director.”

“Did you just come back? It’s pretty late now.”

“Yes, haha. We were watching movies and didn’t notice the time.” 

Wait, but why was he still wearing boots? And Itaru’s been prowling in the lounge for a bit, so why didn’t he hear Sakuya come in? _Definitely sus._

“...I’m so sorry for what happened with Masumi,” Sakuya starts after a while, “I’m used to fighting back when I feel threatened… I acted really inappropriate during rehearsal.”

“Don’t worry, Sakuya. We’ll work through it.”

“What should I do, director? It’s my fault rehearsal isn’t going well, but I don’t really know how to make it up to Masumi.”

“Why don’t you just say sorry? I’m sure a genuine apology would work!”

“How do you become honest?”

“Huh?”

“It’s hard, to be honest…”

Izumi hums, “Just say what’s on your mind. Masumi looks up to you, you know.”

“He… does? I thought he hated me.”

“He sees you as a competition but in a healthy way,” Izumi laughs, “Don’t think too hard about it. I know he’ll understand if you tell him that.”

The howling wind drowns out the rest of their conversation. Itaru feels his worry slowly ebb away as he spots his charger on the kitchen counter. He can kind of empathize with Sakuya since he tended to keep his relationships surface-level. Maybe, Sakuya would feel more comfortable around them now. 

Itaru yawns as Citron drags him to the practice room by the wrist. No events were going on, so he thought he could sleep in, but he woke up to Citron greeting him at his bedside. Citron’s smile was too bright for a weekday morning, but Itaru couldn’t protest. Citron seems quite excited as he urges Itaru to get changed before dragging him off. He hears the sounds of wooden swords hitting one another in the practice room, but at a more languid pace than the other days. They join Izumi and Tsuzuru in peeking into the room, and they hear Masumi pointing out the parts Sakuya lagged at.

“You shield your left too early in this scene.”

“I do?”

“My attack would be coming a bit later, but it throws off the rest of the scene.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“Let’s do it again.”

“Right!”

They exchange blows, and Sakuya manages to block the attack at the right time. They finish off the rest of the routine satisfactorily. Masumi nods as he puts down his sword, “Try to remember that this is just a play. No one's gonna hurt you here.” 

Sakuya stares owlishly at Masumi before he bows deeply, “Thank you so much, Masumi. Sorry for the other day too… it’s hard to unlearn self-defense.”

Masumi eyes him before he nods, “Don’t worry. Let’s do it at a faster pace after a break.”

“Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha how did u guys enjoy this chp? anyway romijuli next!


	4. a different person in the stage lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December doesn’t have August’s kind words or April’s skill for magic tricks, but he does have sweets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? updating in december with a december-centric chapter right when risky game's getting voiced? more likely than you think. merry christmas!!!
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE 500 HITS!!!
> 
> the italicized parts are either thoughts or play lines (lifted from the anime)!

December sends off the last children with a practiced smile before deflating on the counter. August lied when he said this candy store was an info hotspot. Though he didn’t exactly fault him. It’s nice to hear what these ordinary people had to say, knowing they’ll be alive to see tomorrow. They were like different creatures, even if they bleed red too.

One more batch of high schoolers and he’d be finally closing up. He hated working, but April would nag again. August was still overseas for another week, which meant spicy food, but he doesn’t really mind. It was home. They were his home.

December wonders how March is adapting to the troupe.

He’s a quick learner and very observant in missions. That’s what makes him valuable for infiltration and information gathering missions. His youthful looks came in handy for school missions, which was why they were in this city in the first place.

But this wasn’t a mission. This was just something March joined on his own. 

It’s been a relatively long time since March was around people his age, especially civilians. That was what he heard from April, anyway. Civilians didn’t need to stay wary 24/7 or felt threatened when they felt a presence behind them. He wonders how if March ever feels the need to attack, even if they were harmless.

December doesn’t hear the bell above the door ring, but he does hear the soft clank of metal. He doesn’t bother to lift his head to greet March, “Hi.”

March doesn’t reply immediately, but when he does, his voice is softer than usual.

“Hey, December.”

March moves to the counter, taking the other stool behind it. He doesn’t speak. December turns to look at him, “... What’s up?”

His scarred hand fiddles with a ring that August bought for the four of them on that one Christmas. December reaches under the counter for a stock of his marshmallows as he waits for March to speak.

“I… attacked someone in the troupe.” He raises his left arm. “Remember that one injury I got the other week?”

It was a simple mission a few towns over. Steal some information and give it to a client at a meet-up point. Supposedly. Unfortunately, March and April had run into some trouble. They had gotten out of it alive, but not without a few injuries. December remembers falling asleep to the drone of August’s voice scolding March for taking a knife to the arm.

He nods.

“I saw Masumi as one of them… and couldn’t stop attacking. I know that they’re different…” March sighs, “But I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

“Why?”

“I’m a monster. Who attacks civilians out of nowhere?”

December understands that. It always takes more than a little self-restraint to not jump away from civilians who got too close. December reaches forward to pat March’s head comfortingly as he buried his face into his hands.

“It’s hard… but that’s what you’re best at, March.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve always been the best when it comes to blending in with civilians. You must really like them if you don’t want to hurt them at all.”

December notices that he’d usually have no problem using a bit of brute force when it was needed in a mission. March turns to look at him, hand on his cheek, looking more confused, “I…huh?”

“I’m not the one to tell this… but you can trust them. You look happier these days.”

“I do?” 

“Yeah.”

December hands him several wish cookies they had just gotten a few days ago, “August says these grant wishes. Make a wish. I wished for more marshmallows.”

That gets a laugh from March, who unwraps one and eats it, “It won’t come true now because you said it.”

“It already came true since I’m here.” To prove his point, he takes out a new packet of marshmallows. March giggles, “You never change.”

“What did August wish for?” 

“He didn’t want to show me.”

“I wonder what it is…”

December doesn’t look at what March writes, but he knows it has something to do with family if his soft smile was any indication. He knows he’s not the best adult figure around, but if it’s for his family, maybe he could try to be a little helpful. 

December opens his eye to pin August with a stare. He’s standing behind the couch December was sleeping on as he watches the TV, but he smiles when he turns over, “Woke you up?”

“Dinner’s burning,” August quickly runs back to stir dinner.

“Thanks, December!”

He comes back after a few seconds, switching the channels to something more interesting. Dinner smells slightly burnt but doesn’t smell too burnt to be inedible. The show he’s been watching isn’t interesting enough to keep December awake. Before he can sleep again, August suddenly raised the volume of the TV. December frowned at him, “Too loud.”

“Sorry,” he turns down the volume a bit. “But March told me to watch the local news today.”

“Huh.”

“I’m home,” both of them look up to April, who was already removing his suit coat. 

August smiles warmly, “Welcome home, April.”

December sits up a bit, enough for April to sit on the couch before he flops down on his lap. April doesn’t try to shove off December, knowing he’d complain again. He yawned as August giggled, “Rough day?”

“Barely managed to escape another drinking party,” April groans, tugging his tie off. “Why do I have to go undercover in that office anyway? Can’t I just break in and steal the info?”

August laughs, “You look like a charming office worker. Better use those looks!”

“Only looks,” December mumbles, ignoring April’s glare. August ruffles April’s hair before heading back to the kitchen to stir dinner. Even if they’re all grown up, August hasn’t let that habit go. It was childish treatment, but at the same time, it was the few constant things in their field of work.

The drone of the news reporters fills the silence. December looks up at April after a while, “I miss March.”

March is warm and comfortable to sleep on. Plus, he drapes a blanket over December whenever he spots him asleep. 

April leans back as he shrugs, “Well, he’ll be having dinner with us tomorrow. Sleep on him as much as you like.”

_“We’re on the scene at a local theater troupe that’s been recently revived! Today, we’ll be interviewing the actors of MANKAI Company!”_

August quickly sprints back to the couch, sitting down on the floor beside April’s legs. December turned to the TV as March’s bright smile was flashed. He was beside a dark-haired boy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than on camera. March waves to the camera, all composed and friendly, “Nice to meet you!”

 _March looks like a normal kid._ He answers without any trace of nervousness. March’s smile isn’t the one that reeks of fake cheer. It isn’t like those honeyed smiles when he’s feeling annoyed on undercover missions. It’s more like whenever August cooks up some of his favorite food.

March looks even happier than the last time December saw him. He was _shining_.

August coos at their little brother, and his light laughter fills the room when the boy that claimed to be their scriptwriter answers the question with red cheeks. “I didn’t know March’s friends were this cute!”

“That’s such a disastrous interview,” April sighs. 

“It looks fun!”

When the camera switches over to a young blonde man, December happens to look up at April, who had a small smile. He doesn’t know what was so significant about him that it would get a reaction from _April_. The way he smiles oozes fakeness. But of course, he doesn’t take the chance to _not_ tease April.

“August, April’s smil—,” April slaps one of the couch pillows over December to stop him from talking, but too late, August has heard. August’s purple eyes are twinkling with interest as he turns around.

“That is adorable! Was it because of,” He glances at the TV, “this Itaru Chigasaki? Tell us some spicy gossip, April!”

“Quit being insufferable.”

“Awww, April has a—”

“Finish that sentence, and you’ll burn dinner again.”

“Crap!”

_There’s too many people here._ December feels a bit sick, even with August behind him as they find their seats. April could hide his discomfort better as he held the bouquet of flowers. But even _he_ was getting unnerved by the number of people here. August was the only one who didn’t mind the crowd, hands-on December’s shoulders as he steers him.

They find their seats near the exits. Closing night was awfully crowded, but it was the only night they’d be all together. April had just arrived from a trip, while August and December would have to leave for an early flight tomorrow. August and April sit around December.

The bouquet August insisted on buying for March was made up of pink roses, orange roses, and yellow lilies. A few cherry blossom branches were mixed in. April raised an eyebrow when _December_ , of all people, requested for the branches in the bouquet. August smiled at the reminder of Sakuya’s namesake. It was one of the things March missed about Japan.

Once they take their seats, December feels himself dozing off already before April nudges him. He glares at April, who taps at his phone, unaffected by his look. August laughs, handing him a disappointingly small bag of marshmallows, “I’ll give you the bigger one later if you stay awake. “

“Okay.”

“I’m sure Chikage’s excited for Sakuya and Itaru! He may not show it, but he has a—”

“Both of you are never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“You’re just in denial, Chikage.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Misha gave me marshmallows.”

The buzzer of the theater rings out, and the chatter begins fading away. The lights in the audience died down. The velvet curtains begin to rise as the narrator’s voice speaks resounds, _“The stage is set in Verona, Italy. In this town, House Capulet and House Montague has long lived here whilst feuding with each other.”_

The stage lights turn on to reveal March, who looked regal in his costume. Despite his short stature, his presence was way bigger than usual. _“The day has finally come.”_

He turns around with a bright smile, _“Today is the day I invite Rosaline!”_

Romeo goes down the stairs and goes to the left side of the stage, practically shining with happiness as he kneels down to get a bouquet. The beautiful costume made him look like a prince, and he had an air of regality, even from the very back of the theater. One of the boys from the TV interview entered the stage, and there was no trace of gloominess as he bickered with Romeo. They were like completely different people.

_“Let’s go on a journey together, Julius. We can ditch this cramped town and travel the world.”_

_“You’ve got brawns, Romeo, and I’ve got brains. If we put our heads together, we can do anything.”_

_“You’re right! Together, we can go anywhere!”_

December nudges April when Itaru appears on stage, huffing a laugh when April nudges him back rougher. August doesn’t shush them, too engrossed in watching the play.

_“Romeo… why do you have to be Romeo Montague?”_

_“Forsake your home and name, Julius. Don’t we have an even grander dream to share?!”_

_“I can’t. I can’t forsake my family.”_

March recites that line in a similar way to the rendition of Romeo and Juliet they watched in Italy, but it was also different. March was just thirteen at that time, but he could perfectly imitate the actor’s stance, gesture, and presence. Yet December still wonders why he doesn’t seem satisfied after that. Wasn’t acting just imitating someone or reading off a script? Oh well, December could get by with imitating people for missions.

The way the Montagues and Capulets talk about duty reminds him of work. They couldn’t stay here very long, but August insists on taking it easy. Casual infiltration missions weren’t given often, so they took this opportunity to be more civilian-like.

_“For Julius!”_

_“For Romeo!”_

The sword fight looks strange to December, but he knew movements needed to be more prominent on a stage. Strangely enough, he notices Tybalt’s labored breathing, almost like he was injured. The way they moved reminded him of the swordfight when he was in a museum heist with March. _Did March teach them? That’s kinda unexpected._

_“This is the destiny that all Montagues will follow.”_

Romeo slashes at him, and Tybalt takes a step back as if to fall. It’s weird how he remains standing until he notices the pained expression on his face. _Oh, he’s actually injured._

“...Eh?”

“What…?”

 _“Stop!”_ Romeo’s voice resounds, silencing the confused mutters of the audience. _“Stop, Tybalt! The fight is already over. Drop your sword!”_

The theater is caught in a tense moment as Tybalt scowls at him, despite the sweat running down his face, _“...I can’t do that. Romeo Montague!”_

The stage lights dim, and the three actors help Itaru off the stage as Julius and Friar Laurence take their place.

_“I want to save Romeo. What should I do?”_

_“If there is a medicine to fake death, then everyone can be fooled.”_

_“Don’t you die until I return, Romeo!”_

December’s surprised when August takes his free hand, not minding the marshmallow dust on his hand. He’s confused at first but gives August’s hand a squeeze as the stage lights dim. He glances at August but doesn’t find any trace of discomfort in his face. _Is August uncomfortable?_

_“...Julius. I’m sorry I can’t fulfill our promise of journeying together.”_

Julius darts out from the left side, wielding a sword. The executioner raises his sword to strike, but Julius quickly shoves him to the side, sword raised high as he strikes at Romeo.

_“Die, Romeo!”_

Caught defenseless and shocked, Romeo could only raise his handcuffs to deflect the sword. The sword hitting the handcuffs produces the ringing sound of metal. _“Why?! Didn’t we become best friends?!”_

_“You are Romeo Montague, of House Montague!”_

That last push finally breaks the handcuffs as Romeo darts for the executioner’s sword. Their sword fight was on a different level than Tybalt and Mercutio’s, more complicated and fast-paced. Both of them were locked in a deadly dance, and neither looked like they were going to give up. Their capes fluttered around as they continuously danced around each other with strikes.

_“Romeo!”_

_“Julius!”_

Their swords are crossed as Romeo was bought to his knee. Julius retracts his weapon and hands Romeo a bottle. He quickly slips off-stage, _“I will wait for you at the promised place.”_

_“That’s as far as you’ll go.”_

The spotlights shine down on them as they drink from the bottles. August hasn’t let go of December’s hand, only clutching it tighter as both boys collapse.

_“I am not a manual laborer to begin with.”_

_“I won’t do something like climbing a mountain twice.”_

_“Sorry, sorry. Next time, I’ll retrieve the medicine’s raw ingredients for you, Julius.”_

_“How many times do you think that kind of thing will happen?”_

_“Come… Julius.”_

_“Just like we promised that day.”_

_“We’ll travel the world together!”_

The curtain falls, with both of them pointing to the sky with intertwined hands. Romeo’s hand was far rougher than Julius’. The claps and the hollers start even before the curtain falls. August lets go of December’s hand to wipe at his eyes, sniffling. April huffs a laugh as he presses a handkerchief into August’s hand, “Come on. We still have to go backstage after this.”

“R-Right,” August hiccups, “I’m just so proud of Mar— Sakuya… I never thought I’d get to see him on stage, but… he was just so amazing tonight.”

December and April share a glance as they wait for August to dry his tears. The applause sounds like heavy rain, and it doesn’t even stop as the five actors finish the curtain call. Once August has stopped crying, December offers him a packet of marshmallows hidden in his jacket. 

They’re led to the dressing room by Matsukawa. August immediately jumps at March with a hug, who was in the middle of talking to his troupe members. March jumps at the sudden contact but relaxes when August gushes, “Saku, I’m so proud of you! I never would’ve thought you’d grow up to be such a good actor!”

“Misha! You’re here!”

“Chikage and Hisoka too!” The two of them trail behind. Once August lets go of March, April hands him the bouquet. Itaru looks behind August and March, and his eyebrows lift up in surprise at the sight of April, “Senpai?”

“Good work, Chigasaki.”

The Zahran prince looks between the two salarymen curiously, “Do you know him, Itaru?”

“He’s my senior from work, Chikage Utsuki. Speaking of which, what _are_ you doing here?”

“We’re here to support Sakkun!” August beams, his hands on March’s shoulders. “Because we’re family!”

December hands March a bottle of colorful konpeito candy, “You did well.”

“Konpeito! I haven’t had these in a while!”

March introduces his family to the troupe, and they’re frankly too noisy for December. They jump when Tsuzuru yells, holding back Masumi, “Masumi! _Put the sword down!”_

“Oh! So, it’s actually made of metal! The swords look so light on stage!”

_“‘I’m going to kill you.”_

“Masumi!”

December spots Izumi holding a single pink rose in a soft blue floral wrapping paper, with a panicked look as they tried to calm down Masumi. He somehow understands the situation. They had to learn flower language for a mission, and December remembers that pink roses were for gratitude. August was saying thanks to the director then. Though he didn’t understand why Masumi looked ready to stab August (not that he could, even with the sword). Civilians could get pretty weird sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hisoka: civilians are weird  
> homare: you are the absolute last person i wish to hear such a thing from!
> 
> lmk what you think abt this chapter!!


	5. party time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer break and vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turn on work skin for this chapter! this chapter will be more fast-paced and longer than usual.
> 
>  **Warnings for this chapter:** crossdressing, drinking mention, kidnapping mention, implied violence, implied character death

"Thank you for taking care of our little boy once again, Miss Director," August smiles. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

March pouts at the edge of his vision, and he ruffles the younger’s head affectionately, gaining a squawk. Izumi chuckles, “It’s no problem. He’s actually like a big brother around the dorms! He helps out around... though we’ve banned him from the kitchen for now.”

“It took a while to scrape the stove clean,” Matsukawa mutters gloomily. 

“That explosion was suuuuuper colorful, though! That blew up on Insta!”

August sheepishly laughs, “I am _so_ _sorry,_ he might have gotten that from me.”

“...you do seem like a disaster. Energy Concentrate getting that doesn’t seem far off,” Yuki states, raising an eyebrow at his bright red flower-patterned shirt. Despite being younger, Yuki definitely has a tongue that could match April’s. But what was wrong with his shirt? _This was a total bargain in Hawaii! And who doesn't like discounts?_

“This shirt totally matches me!”

“Right.” 

Weren’t contrasting colors supposed to look good? August didn’t pin himself as a designer, but he did have some pretty good picks. The hems of his teal pants were even rolled up, like what youngsters did. He even tucked the shirt in!

“We’ll be going now!” Any more time wasted, and April would get super naggy again. He knows March also feels April’s prickly glare from the car from how he tugs at the back of his shirt. _Like when he brought home Sakuya._

“Take care, Saku-saku! Don’t forget to DM us pics, okay?”

“Triangles too!”

“Sure! Oh, what would you like, Muku?”

“M-Me? Uhm… anything is fine!”

“How about a book? I saw you reading a novel in English the other day.”

“That would be okay with you?!”

“Of course!”

“Thank you so much!”

"Good luck with your flight, Sakuya."

"Thanks! Good luck at your training camp, everyone!"

August felt happy knowing that March now had friends to go back to. Being in the Organization meant you always had to watch your back, lest you get betrayed sooner or later. There were no friends there. 

The only people you could trust was your family. In this dark and dreary world of underground work, their team was the only people he knew wouldn't betray him. April had called him out on his naivety multiple times, but August knows the other agent wouldn’t be able to bear betrayal.

March didn’t have experience with making friends, seeing how he didn’t go to school. But for now, he was a normal boy who went to school, had friends to hang out with, and was relied on for regular tasks. 

It makes August wonder if things would have been different if he hadn’t taken in Sakuya that day. Would he still be passed around with his awful relatives? Or would he have run away sooner or later?

Seeing March being able to smile genuinely with his friends makes August determined to get them out of the Organization faster. _Since I was the one who brought them in, I’ll get them out too. Even if that means d—_

“Misha?”

March looks up at him worriedly. _Oh, did I go off again?_ He’s so glad March is sensitive to other people’s emotions. It helps a lot on days that he just can’t help but fall into negative thoughts. He smiles, “Let’s go.”

They’re met with an irritated hiss from April when August opens the passenger door, “You sure took a long time.”

With one last wave to his troupe mates, March gets into the backseat. December immediately makes himself comfortable on his lap. 

“We’re still on time for the flight, right?”

“This isn’t a vacation." 

December grumbles from his place, “It’s too early for you to be cranky.”

August laughs, “It’s a vacation for March! Speaking of which, have you finished your summer homework?”

“Do I really have to?” March frowns. “I’ve already learned this.”

“You gotta pass school to graduate! And didn’t you say you’d get a graduation pic with us?” 

“That’s… true. But homework’s boring!”

Although plane rides were typically exhausting, August feels excited as the PA system announces they’ll be landing in London soon. The cabin is silent, and few are still awake. March and December have long fallen asleep on each other. April reads a book beside him.

August leans on his shoulder, and April shifts to make him more comfortable. Though April would shy away from physical touch most of the time, there were few moments he didn’t mind it. The book April was reading was a tourist guide on the Kingdom of Zahra, and even in the low light of the cabin, the pictures were still vibrant. August skims the images, smiling. “I’ve never seen a jasmine field. It’s pretty.”

“They have really unique spices, too. Too bad I’ll be in Zahra for only a connecting flight.” August chuckles at the tone in his voice.

“Want me to buy some spices when you come back to Japan?”

“Don’t you owe me cinnamon and ginger for using up my stock?”

August laughs, “Don’t worry, they’ll be in a cute little box when you come home for Christmas!”

“Just hand them to me,” April turns the page, “Putting them into a present would be a waste.”

“It’s timely, though! What if I throw in a pack of star anise then?”

“Aren’t Christmas gifts supposed to be a secret?” April counters, raising an eyebrow.

“I have something else planned for your gifts, don’t worry about getting spoiled.”

“...If you say so.”

August glances at March and December, who were still sleeping, then whispers, “What should we get December for his birthday?”

“Just give him marshmallows.”

“Apriiiiil,” August pouts. December would already consider it a good day if he got marshmallows, but he really wanted to exert effort for December’s gift. An idea comes into August’s mind when the thin necklace chain peeks out of December’s shirt when he shifts. It’s been several years since they bought the set, right? The clasp of August’s was already loose, and he was pretty sure December’s necklace had more damage from the number of field missions he was dispatched on. He’s not yet sure if he’d put a charm, but the necklace chain was already a good start.

The sun was already starting to set when the plane touched down in London. December was still groggy, even as March shook him awake. April hands them a pack of marshmallows as August checks in for the mission. They’re waiting for their suitcases when April’s phone rings and his face goes carefully blank. Without missing a beat, he picks up and begins speaking English.

“...all right, we got it, chap,” April finishes the call from their contact, only to see August looking red from trying not to burst out in laughter, December with a disgusted expression, and March texting on Sakuya’s phone. 

_“What.”_

“What are you, British?” December grumbles. August couldn’t hide his laughter anymore, bursting into laughter. 

March looked up, curiously, “Wait, is he actually British?!”

 _“Don’t. Even. Start.”_ April hisses, glaring at August, who was wheezing. March couldn’t hide a giggle at the British accent that slips.

December’s British accent isn’t as smooth and natural as April’s, “What are you hungry for? Some bangers? Or perhaps some crumpets and te—”

He’s silenced when April throws a bag of marshmallows towards his face. December manages to catch it, but that annoying grin is still there. “Two hours.”

“Whatever, James.”

**AGENT/S:** March, April, August, December  
 **EMPLOYEE ID:** 030917, 041525, 080832, 120325   
**FILE ID:** Mission Briefing (02/07/20XX)

** I. INTRODUCTION **

    1. ███████████ has requested files from Bradley Fletcher. ███████████ has also requested additional information from Fletcher's right-hand man, Arthur Fox.
    2. Fletcher shall hold a banquet at Fletcher estate in ████████████████████████████████████████████, Britain on July 28th.
    3. ███████████ has explicitly stated to not harm Fletcher's daughter, Alice Fletcher-Dawson.
    4. Enclosed with this file:   
— Bradley Fletcher's profile   
— Arthur Fox's profile   
— Alice Fletcher-Dawson's profile   
— Specifics of the requested file   
— Map of the Fletcher Estate



** II. MISSION PROPER **

    1. Infiltration and disguise is recommended for this mission. Agents shall come up with disposable names. Contact HQ for any assistance.
    2. ███████████ has stated that they will send someone to get the files. Meet-up point is at █████████████████████████████████.
    3. SOP will apply. Failure will be punished.



“This is itchy,” December grumbles, loosening his tie for the umpteenth time. The suit was stiff, but it fit well on him. His hair was styled loosely, and he had blue contacts on. His knife holster was laid out on the hotel bed.

April was wearing casual clothes with a nondescript long brown wig. He glares at him through black contacts, “Quit complaining, will you?”

“I don’t know how William can wear this thing for so long.”

“You look dashing, James! You can definitely pick up admirers with that look!”

“No, thanks.”

“Wow, those contacts really make a change,” March quips in, walking out of the bathroom in a dress, his regular clothes draped on his arms. The dress was light brown, and it was loose on March, draping right above his knees. The belt was tied into a loose ribbon, and it definitely matched the purse he’d hide his knife in. August spotted the tiny scar that peeked out from the neckline, but no one would know it existed at a first look. The scars on his arms had some concealer on. He also had some light makeup, along with the hair extensions that made his hair fall beyond his waist.

“Can’t believe you’ve got a cute dress! And it fits you well too!” August gushes once March plops down on the hotel bed. March laughs sheepishly as he folds his clothes, “I tried to tell Yuki it was for someone else, but he didn’t believe me. I just told him that it’s for a party, and he made this one.”

“That’s a pretty good disguise,” April nods as March does a twirl, “Will you wear heels? If you will, make sure you can run in them.”

March raises a light-colored box, “Yuki also found some pretty good pumps, and I can run in them. They aren’t too high.”

“Tell Yuki that his fashion sense is amazing! You look really nice in that.”

“I will! Hey, James.”

“What?”

“Can you braid my hair? Your braids look neater than mine.”

“Make it quick, Marianne.”

“Yep!”

March saunters over to April, who shuts his laptop and puts it aside. He runs his hand through the extension before beginning to braid the long red hair skillfully. March takes out a compact and begins the finishing touches on his outfit. August stands up and hands them the earpieces, nudging December awake. He was already curling into himself for a nap, even though he was in a suit. August laughs, “Don’t ruin the suit, James. C’mon, get up!”

“... I will… zzz...”

April sighs as August pokes December awake, promising him marshmallows once the mission is over. August finds it cute how April’s braid doesn’t look like he made it, but he knows that it’s one of April’s many skills. March was decent with covering up bruises and injuries with makeup and had picked up some basic makeup for undercover missions.

August sees off the three of them with a smile. They were capable, and he knows they’ll finish the mission. But a mission without injuries was debatable. Who knew what their target had up his sleeve?

The party is stuffy as expected. Through the bodycam, August finds the decorations of the Fletcher Estate to be needlessly lavish. Aside from the high rise ceilings, chandeliers, and overuse of gold accents, the walls’ paintings were creepy and better suited to a horror house. There were also some unnerving statues at the gates. He’s glad that the guards didn’t notice the weapons Marianne and James have hidden. The guards in the party don’t spare a second glance at them. There’s a string quartet playing to one side, and they were a pleasant noise through the talks of the high-class.

It only takes a few minutes before a couple dressed in gaudy designer clothes approaches them. August nods to himself when neither of them slip-up their introductions. March also speaks quietly so he could pitch up his voice.

_“I haven’t seen either of you before. Are you perhaps an associate of Bradley’s?”_

_“I’m James Chapman, and this is my sister, Marianne. Our parents are associates of Mr. Fletcher.”_

_“Pleased to meet you.”_

The lady laughs, _“Ohoho! You’re both quite well-mannered! It’s been a long time since I’ve talked with youngsters as polite as you!”_

_“Thank you so much, Mrs. …?”_

_“How rude of me to not introduce myself! I’m Amelia Burton. Have you heard of the Burton House of Perfumes?”_

_“Oh, yes! Our mother bought a bottle from your shop a month ago, and she’s loved it since,”_ March giggles, _“We’d like to pass our thanks to you.”_

The conversation is easy, and it was an informative way to pass the time. Amelia’s husband, Roy, had told them that his wife was already drunk, so she was more talkative. Though her ramblings started from perfumes, it eventually became more useful as she began getting into the London high-class society’s dirt. August filed the audio away for compilation.

It’s about an hour later when ringing glass echoes through the hall. The crowd is silenced, and December’s hand affixes the necktie camera slightly higher for August to see the stage. Bradley Fletcher was a man in his late 50s who was the head of a multinational corporation focused on electronic parts manufacturing. At least, that’s what his standard profile would tell.

The manufacturing part was a cover for smuggling illegal items into other countries. This has made him a target, not only for governments but for underground groups that relied on illegal transport for their business. 

The business wasn’t the only thing that made him a target; his attitude was rotten too. The only reason he hasn’t been taken out yet was his connections and wealth.

 _“Welcome to my housewarming party!”_ Fletcher greets, as the crowd gives him applause. There’s even a spotlight aimed at him. Through the camera, August sees Alice Fletcher-Dawson, standing next to her father stiffly. Even with her doll-like face, expensive dress, and carefully styled hair, she seemed to be in an eternally foul mood. Fletcher didn’t notice—or maybe he chose to ignore it— and began his long-winded speech.

Amelia whispers to March, _“I feel bad for my dear Alice.”_

_“Why is that?”_

_“You didn’t hear it from me.”_ A pause. _“But there’s a rumor floating around that someone had tried to kidnap her to force money out of Bradley… must be a traumatizing experience for the girl.”_

Which meant that there was a possibility they couldn’t finish the mission. They had to get information fast. They weren’t the only hired group at this party. Other parties could also be going after the same set of information they were after.

“March, get the files as soon as you can. There’s no time to waste.”

August doesn’t get a direct answer, but the double clink of March’s earrings tells him enough. He glances at April’s bodycam, and he’s still moving around in the kitchen. He replays the recorded audio while waiting for the speech to end and finds that the house staff was worried. The kidnapping episode was true, and some of the staff have resigned due to fear that they could be targeted. Fletcher had a big target on his back.

_“Enjoy the party!”_

There are cheers from around the hall, and Fletcher steps off-stage, Alice following after him. They disappear beyond the gothic doors.

March excuses himself for the bathroom and quickly follows after the two. Meanwhile, December was led to the table of drinks, who challenged him to a drinking competition. Though it was only a quick moment, August spotted the bright purple suit Arthur Fox favored.

“December, you know what to do.”

_“Anyone else joining this competition? ...How about you there, good sir?”_

_“Huh?”_ It’s suspicious how Fox seems too jumpy tonight. His profile said he was a naturally calm person, and for him to get this worked up… it means they’re definitely expecting something tonight.

_“You looked quite stressed. You should loosen up!”_

_“Yeah, Art! You’re not even 40, and you’ve got awful wrinkles!”_

_“Oi! ...Tch, fine. Don’t regret it, brat. I can drink six glasses without getting plastered!”_

_“Let’s see about that.”_

April’s still helping with the food preparation when his voice comes in, _“What’s the situation?”_

“March has already gone after them. December’s caught Fox. ETA for March is 20 minutes.”

_“Go assist December with Fox.”_

“Uh-huh.” There are only a few guards that March has met along the way, but he quickly gets off the hook with the few lies. A few guards refuse to budge, and he knocks them out with ease, leaving them behind the curtains and art installations in the hallway. He silently runs his way through the halls, breaths almost inaudible. _“March, what’s the situation?”_

 _“I’m near. Fletcher’s office should be…_ ” he trails off, but August doesn’t spot anything amiss with bodycam.

_“March…?”_

March reaches the location of Fletcher’s office, slipping on a pair of gloves before opening the door. His breath hitches at the sight of Alice with a few specks of blood on her face. August didn’t see much from the camera, but he could only imagine the scene.

 _“Are you here to take my father out, Miss Assassin?”_ There was a disturbingly calm expression on her face.

March doesn’t reply before he exhales slowly, _“I don’t have a target today.”_

Alice laughs, and August hears a metallic clank along with the drips of liquid, _“You’re here for this folder then, I suppose. Forgive me for the mess… I didn’t expect to have an argument today, and I saw red.”_

There’s a swish as March catches the envelope. _“...how are you feeling?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“I don’t remember my first kill, but I’ve been told I was despondent for hours.”_ Even if he was in mission mode, August cringes at that memory. It was accidental. March had panicked in one of his earlier missions and accidentally went overboard with self-defense. He was in shock, and December had to whisk him away before they got caught. Since then, he’d always take extra precautions to just knock-out those who got in his way.

 _“I feel… numb,”_ she sighs as March shuffles through the papers. _“I don’t know if I should feel happy or relieved about getting him out of my life. It’s just… he’s always been an asshole to my mom and me even before she passed. I’m supposed to visit mom’s grave today… but he didn’t want me leaving the house. He’s always so selfish, and I finally got fed up.”_

She lets out a tiny laugh, _“I suppose this is better. Clearing the world of evil with your own hands is like a story, isn’t it?”_

 _“It doesn’t have to be this way,”_ March insists, closing the envelope softly. _“I can help you escape and not have the crime pinned on you.”_

_“That’s… I have to refuse.”_

_“...”_

_“He’s had tons of people out for him, and they’d go after me without any hesitation once the news gets out. Prison is the safest place for me. ...Though, I appreciate your offer, Miss Assassin.”_

_“Is this what you wanted?”_

The question silences her before she nods slowly, _“I’ve always longed for freedom… but this is the only way I can get the freedom I wish.”_

_“They don’t have luxurious food in prison.”_

The heiress giggles, _“Luxurious food is tasteless to me. I’d rather have some of those… burgers? I’ve heard they taste wonderful.”_

_“...They are.”_

_“Thank you for listening to me, Miss Assassin. You should go now if you want to leave peacefully. The bodyguards will be making rounds soon.”_

_“Take care. Prison is not a kind place.”_

_“Miss Assassin cares more than she shows… how unusual. Take care too.”_

“The police are about to arrive sooner. Hurry up.”

_“Got it.”_

_“Where’s March?”_

_“I’m already in the car.”_

The rest is easy work for April and December. December swindles the memory stick from Fox’s keyring, while April calls a cab for him. April’s already back to casual clothes. The other partygoers outside ignored them as they hauled the drunk man to the cab. Fox barely manages a coherent thank you and a street name before he blackouts again. James bids goodnight to some of the other men he’s conversed with, chuckling when he gets an invitation at a pub downtown. James and William make easy conversation as they get farther and farther away from the Fletcher estate. 

March was already in the backseat, massaging his feet. He smiles at the two, already switching back to Japanese, _“Good work.”_

_“Why are the police coming?”_

_“It seems Alice has decided to put matters into her own hands,”_ March doesn’t manage to hide his saddened tone.

_“Ah.”_

“The client said they’ll get her out… somehow,” August supplies, and a few clicks of the keyboard follow. “Deliver the info to the drop-off point, and we’re done.”

_“Yes.”_

They spend the next two days sightseeing to shrug off any suspicion. The newspaper is full of news of the incident at the party. Alice refused to have any interview, and it seems like she was perfectly content with all the speculations surrounding her. The entire Fletcher corporation was in shambles, and their value in the stock market had plummeted. Even with the strolls and food trips, August still saw that March was bothered. But he doesn’t push him to talk about it; March would approach him when he was ready.

August and March quietly stand next to each other as they look through souvenirs. April and December had decided to go look for snacks. March already has a novel, a set of postcards, and a snowglobe with a triangular house. 

“Do you think I should’ve helped her?” March asks, inspecting a tin of coffee candies.

August hummed, picking up a mug, “She said it herself, right? It was safer for her.”

“I know.”

August ruffles his hair, “Don’t overthink about it. You said that she looked happier in the pictures.”

“I guess freedom is different for everyone…”

August’s own perception of freedom was a life away from the Organization. How he wishes to see March, April, and December live safely. Where they could spend their days knowing they’ll get to see tomorrow.

July’s threat still rings clear in his mind as he waits for March to check out the gifts. Even if he was one of the Organization’s brightest minds, it didn’t mean he’s dedicated to it. July was in too deep. Though he may not have power like the higher-ups, he’ll do everything he could to protect them.

August knows July is a man of his words. He needed to take all the measures to protect his family. The Organization would prefer a less human agent, but August wouldn’t give up the “fragile” family that he made. He was the one who brought them here; he’d get them out too. They were the sun in a dark abyss that he’ll never get out of. They were only waist-deep in this dark world. They could still leave. 

That was the reason he started making the memory drug. It wasn’t bound by the Organization’s needs, so it was more of a personal project for him. If they forgot everything in the Organization, then maybe they could somehow live a normal life. _But that would mean they’d forget their family too..._

 _A drug to fake death…_ Maybe that could be his next project. It sounded interesting, and it would certainly prove to be useful in missions. It seemed infinitely better than a drug that would make him lose his family, even if it was accidental. And even if they were away from each other, they could still remember them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chikage chewsday
> 
> original title of this chapter was supposed to be "i ended up on top of the big ben (not clickbait)" but it just didn't fit in. i was vibing to [trap for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTJhMHitGbs&ab_channel=HolicTrick) by eve while writing this (the english lyrics are... uh)!
> 
> get ready for the next chapter, it's gonna be a ride!


	6. that’s right, you’re all alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I'm on a solo mission and you're on an overseas mission, who's their backup then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this chapter:** major character death, blood ment, gun ment

"Rise and shine, December!”

December doesn’t even stir as August tugs at the blanket. “Come on! Breakfast’s ready!”

March laughs from the stove, “I forgot how hard it is to wake him up. December, there’s still some of the marshmallow cake I helped Omi bake. You two can have the last slices after breakfast.”

“...Okay,” December yawns. The hideout smelled like fried fish, spices, and fresh rice.

“I forgot we still had some left! Tell Omi that his cakes are delicious.”

“I will! Sakyo was almost gonna scold us for using up the dorm’s sugar stock, but I promised I’d buy sugar when I come back.”

“Sounds like Sakyo has a really tight hold on the dorms’ finances, huh?”

“Yeah,” March laughs. “He had this list of rules on saving electricity and food. He even watered down the shampoo and juice.”

“Wow. Reminds me of that mission in Iceland."

"That was fun!"

December takes a seat at the table, eyeing the bowls. The bowls of rice and miso still had steam coming off them. The egg roll had some slightly burnt spots, and there was also some pickled radish on one plate.

“March cooked this?”

“Yes! I asked Omi for tips on how to cook since I didn’t want to bother him if I have to leave early or arrive too late,” March shuts off the stove, putting the fried salmon on their plates. It looked redder than the golden brown. It smelled of herbs and spices, and there were a few burnt spots too.

August’s eyes glimmers at the sight of the food, “This already looks amazing! Thank you for the food!”

“Mhm.” Compared to August’s cooking, March seemed to enjoy putting in tons of herbs and spices. December faintly regrets leaving March with April when they were younger when he felt his mouth burn from a single bite. There was some sweetness to it, though it burned his tongue more. August coughs, reaching for a glass of milk, “That… was really spicy.”

“Is it?” March blinks, “I put paprika in, and it’s supposed to be sweeter than chili powder.”

“Put in sugar next time… you’re gonna end up with the same taste buds as April,” December complains, but he continues eating with occasional gulps of milk. The miso was milder, but it still sends a sting down December’s throat. He didn’t dare touch the pickles until August put some on his bowl and insisted that he should at least taste it. They weren’t marshmallows, but they were pretty sweet for a vegetable.

After breakfast, August and December cleaned up as March began preparing for his mission. December leisurely eats his slice of cake as the younger agent begins skimming the mission brief again. The agent who was supposed to have this mission had been injured, and they needed a replacement. March was the only available agent for tonight. 

Neither of them couldn’t have a backup, though August had assured them they could do without a backup. _“I trained you guys after all! I’m sure you’ll be fine!”_

December glances at August. Even though he had looked close to crying last night—was it from anger or worry?—from his careless words, he looked upbeat as ever. There was a dollop of frosting on his cheek as he happily savored the marshmallow cake. December knows he quickly gets over arguments like that, though it didn’t make him feel less guilty. He was no poet, but he could’ve probably worded it better.

“...Sorry about last night, August. I’ll try to stay alive as much as I can tonight.”

August pauses. He stares at December with shock, as if he didn’t believe his own ears. March insisted that a simple apology would work since August wasn’t the type to hold grudges.

“We’ll still eat gingerbread on Christmas together, right?” March adds, with his own bright smile.

December pokes at his cake anxiously as August still stared at him with wide eyes. They’re caught in oddly tense silence as March begins fidgeting beside him. _Did I mess up?_

“...haha.”

“August…?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He raises a sleeve to his eyes, and December spots the glistening tears in his eyes. “I’m just so glad I have you guys as my family.”

“Thank you for taking us in, August.”

“C’mon, you two,” August hiccups, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“But we mean it!”

December raises a hand to lift his turtleneck, the autumn air more frigid than it should be. His breaths come out in a faint mist. “It’s cold…”

“You were always barefoot when I met you, though.”

“Things are different now… I wanna go back.”

“I guess it’s really getting cold, huh? Want some hot chocolate later?”

“With marshmallows?”

“Of course.”

That was a nice thing to look forward to. December stands up to survey the building across them, “It’s almost time—”

The necklace snaps, and he quickly catches the small vial that hung off the chain. He might have promised August to not use it, but it could still prove handy if he was caught. “Oh.”

“Again?” August frowned, but he rubbed at his chin with a pensive expression after a while, “Ah, but you’ve had tons of field missions lately, right? It’s amazing how much you took care of your first necklace.” 

December never had anything to treasure before he joined, so he took care of the chain carefully. It was one of the constants in his life, along with his family. Though he may dispose of identities like clothes, it was one of the markers that he was still December. The first one became a casualty when they’d gotten a backup request on his birthday last year.

“They say that’s a bad omen,” December frowns, placing the vial in his pocket. What a shame, but he never really liked the feel of that necklace around his neck. It was always so itchy.

August smiles, “I think March’s luck cancels that out. He’s always been so lucky.”

“I’d actually believe you if March was around…” 

“Let’s make it quick so we can greet March when he comes back.”

“Yeah.” December raises his hood as August checks at the building one last time.

_Ten minutes._

“...Say, what do you think about matching items, December?”

“April would probably hate having matching items… but I think March wouldn’t mind.”

“But we know that April would still keep it,” August chuckles, “I think it’ll be proof… that we’re family through and through.”

“Isn’t this necklace enough?”

“There’s no point if it’s from the organization anyway.”

August could be weirdly sentimental sometimes, but December could understand. Though the necklaces were proof that they were agents, it was also a constant reminder that they could be dead tomorrow. He wouldn’t mind something less ominous as a keepsake.

“It’s okay with me… especially if it annoys April.”

August laughs softly, “You two act like siblings. It’s cute.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t be like that, December! Come on, it’s almost time.”

“Okay.”

December finds nothing amiss as they sneak past guards on the first floor. It was the average volume of staff on a weekday night. For the first time in a while, he finds himself eager to get home earlier than March, so they could greet him with a “welcome home.”

March smiles in relief as his phone finally shows that the file transfer is complete. It hadn’t been easy sneaking into this courthouse with its high tech security measures. The guard at the security room had two more hours before he woke up from March knocking him out. He makes quick work of deleting all of his tracks and looping the cameras. 

Disarming the alarms was relatively easy once he was in the security room, but the longest part was waiting for each file to be transferred. It was almost like the client had asked for a decade’s worth of information from how long the transfer took. He’d also have to “return” the employee ID card he’d swiped off a guard before he leaves this place.

Ducking out of the records room with light footsteps, he waits by a corner for that one guard to make his rounds. The courthouse is chillier at night, and he tugs at his sleeves. _Maybe I should’ve gotten the thicker jacket._

“Graveyard shift is the worst…”

There he is. The guard is still a few meters down the hall, yet his flashlight makes it seem like he’s closer. March throws the plastic card into the hallway and silently hides behind a bunch of vending machines.

“Huh…? Tch. The youngin doesn’t even bother keeping his shit on him. He’s gonna lose his job at this rate..”

Wrong guard. But at least he could leave the courthouse without any evidence on him. The old guard doesn’t bother making it down the hall where March was, and his footsteps and grumbles eventually fading out.

March makes sure to keep his steps light as he makes it down the rickety fire exit. He leaps into a tree, flinching when one of the branches almost pokes his eyes. _Close one._

He leaps to another tree, keeping it up until he leaps over the barbed walls of the courthouse. A few cats scuttle about as he lands near them, one of them hissing at him. March sheepishly smiles at the cats. The cat bares its fangs at him, and he then notices the tiny mewls of kittens from behind it. He holds up his hand, backing away carefully.

March walks through the foliage, making sure to cover his tracks with leaves. He also zips up his jacket and stuffs his hands into his pockets. March walks through the park at a leisurely pace, making sure to keep his tracks on pavement. After several minutes of making sure no one has tracked him, he sits on a bench beside a vending machine.

It’s cold.

Although the snow wasn’t coming for a few more weeks, March’s breath was already coming out in mists. He really never did well in the cold. Raising a sleeve to his nose, he faintly notes the scent of paprika and sugar on the jacket. The streetlight by this bench was flickering, but the moonlight provided enough light to see his surroundings.

March takes out his phone when he feels it vibrate with a notification. He straightens up when he reads the latest notification. _Headquarters…?_

He couldn’t be already getting another mission, right? He hasn’t even finished this one. There’s a sliver of fear that wraps around him, thinking of the possibilities. The last time he had gotten an email that wasn’t a mission brief, April had broken his leg. March keeps his fingers crossed in his pocket as he taps into the email app.

_March,_

_We regretfully inform you of the two casualties from your team on December 3 (JST) at approximately 12:08 AM. August has passed away from blood loss from a gunshot wound, while December’s body is yet to be found. A witness from the team that ambushed them has informed us that December has fallen into the sea. With the height of the cliff, December is presumed dead._

_The witness has confirmed that the information was leaked to them. Though we cannot guarantee the details yet, there are traces of December leaking the information._

_However, there is still suspicion of your possible involvement. You are ordered to come to HQ once your current mission is done. If you are found innocent, you shall continue your mission as a student. The duties of former agents August and December shall be divided between you and April..._

Gunshot wound? Presumed dead? Information leak? Former agents?

Even in the manner the email was written in, it still didn’t feel real. Even if he ran those words through the languages he knew, it still didn’t feel real. The pleasantries at the end of the email don’t make the message lighter; if anything, it cements the reality of the message. He shuts off the phone’s screen and takes a deep breath. The surroundings are silent, save for a few passing cars and animals.

March knows August and December are capable agents. August trained even them! The mission was simple. March had helped August arrange the plan himself, and he knows it’s perfect. When he closes his eyes, he can vibrantly imagine the building’s layout, the diagram of plans, and the mission briefing. The contents of the email don’t change, even with how many times he rereads it.

_“...there are traces of December leaking the information.”_

No, no, no, that’s impossible. December is family. Outside of missions, December was selfishly honest. All he ever wanted was marshmallows, a warm place to sleep, and his family. There was no way he’d betray them. What would he even get from that?

There’s an uncomfortable churning in his stomach as he tries to think about it rationally. Outside of their team, only a few staff at headquarters knew of the mission. It has to have been leaked. There was no way an average person would have known the escape route he put. There’s a part of him that wants to desperately believe that December didn’t leak it. ...Then, could he have been framed?

_But December didn’t prote—_

March clutches the vial on his pendant. He’s careful not to break it as it squeaks against his glove. Another deep breath. He needed to keep his head somehow. _Think of this like an etude… don’t cry. You’re a secret agent for this._

The full moon was beautiful tonight, but it only fills March with a dread he hasn’t felt in a long time. He scans the information on his phone and finds nothing amiss. The information he was asked to get was complete, and he just needed to send the files.

But what comes after that?

_I’m scared…_

March stumbles as he hops onto the dorms’ roof. The Organization’s interrogation was hell. The interrogation was never easy, even if he was one of the youngest in the Organization. They’d squeezed out everything he knew about the mission, even on his possible involvement in the leak. He’s made sure to give all the information they wanted, shutting off his emotions so he wouldn’t say something stupid. He knows better than to let his emotions get in the way.

It’s too late for any average person to get home, and he knows that he’s way behind the curfew Sakyo set for the minors. Glancing at Sakuya’s phone, he also grimaces at the unread messages that have been piling up from three days ago. _Ah… I’ve been skipping school too… for three days. The others aren't going to be happy._

He ignores them for now and swipes down to see April’s contact. He’s not surprised to see that it's still unread, though it makes his eyes water. He shakes his head. 

March was running on autopilot as he landed on the second floor’s rails, then silently landed on the grass below. There are the telltale clicks and curses from Itaru’s room, the sound of Yuki’s sewing machine from upstairs, and the scratching of a pencil from 104. Some of the lights are still on, but that was expected. He retreats into room 101, shutting it behind him silently. He doesn’t bother with the lights.

That was for the better. 

(March can’t bear to look at himself right now. He knows he’s a mess.)

After removing his boots and gloves, March climbs up the ladder with the last of his strength. The frame creaks with his weight as he collapses on the bed. He takes out a ziplock bag from his pockets. He’s a bit relieved he can’t see the dried blood on one side of the ring.

Despite the plastic, the ring seems to burn a hole in his bare palm from how cold it is. _None of August’s warmth..._

March clutches it tightly as if it would crumble to dust if he didn’t hold it. He feels cold all over. His cheeks feel cold and damp with the tears from earlier, and his eyes sting with new tears as he lies there. A horrible mix of emotions grips at his chest painfully, and he shuts his eyes tightly.

He wishes he can erase the sight of a deathly pale August from his mind. He wishes he hadn’t read the autopsy report. He wishes to go back to the morning, where he could still hear August’s laughter and December’s soft snores. He wishes to see April doing magic tricks to stop him from crying. 

But they’re not here now. August was dead, December was missing, and April was across the ocean. _I’m alone._

This was a nightmare he could never wake up from, no matter how many times he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from [shoujo rei](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSIVFkV64BI&ab_channel=%E3%83%A8%E3%83%AB%E3%82%B7%E3%82%AB%2Fn-bunaOfficial), that i was also vibing to while writing this
> 
> hello you can all yell at me about this chapter


	7. if you could let me in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may fight your battles alone, but don’t forget that you have friends to back you up now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this chapter:** graphic violence, knife ment, injuries
> 
> Thank you for the 900 hits and 90+ kudos!

Sakuya rubbed at his eyes, squinting at the clock. _4:12 AM._ Ever since that night, work has gotten heavier. Information gathering was already heavy enough as it was, but with the added workload from August’s own unfinished jobs, he hasn’t been able to sleep. His mind was dull with the information he’s had to read and compile for hours, yet it wouldn’t stop the tears from dampening his eyes when he lets his mind wander.

Glasses on the desk and head in his hands, he breathes in deeply.

Could he have done something to prevent that incident? He was just in the next town over. He could have made it in time to back them up.

Sakuya’s breath comes out in a shudder.

_April._

He turns on March’s phone to check on his messages. It doesn’t make him feel disappointed anymore when his messages are still left unread. April was always the type to take things on his own. If he felt like this already, he can’t help the pain when he thinks about how April was feeling. Or rather, the pain he was ignoring.

April was never the type to dwell on things. He’d sooner bury them in a casket than face them. He’s always the type to hide his pain unless someone in their family would force it out of him. He’d be still out of the country for several more days, and there was no telling when Sakuya would see him again.

He wants to see him again. To tell him that it’s okay to cry, to acknowledge the pain of losing a loved one, to reassure him he won’t be leaving too.

But this was too sudden for both of them. Who knew what was going through April’s mind? 

March knows that the most vulnerable state of a person is after an event like this. He trusts his family… but who’s to say other agents and enemies wouldn’t use this situation on them?

He bites at his lip. He wants to help April so badly, but he doesn't know how to approach him. Did he still need some time for himself? Or was he going to make this worse if he interfered now?

“Sakuya?”

Citron’s voice is soft and distant. Sakuya hiccups and ends up coughing as he hears the gentle patter of slippers towards his desk. They stop a few steps from him.

“Y-You’re still up, Citron?”

“Sakuya… you’re crying,” Citron whispers, and Sakuya instantly wipes his eyes with alarm. His cheeks feel unbearably warm. He coughs again, and the tears that had welled up finally spill. The tears wouldn't stop even as he rubs at his eyes and gasps for air. His chest was stinging with emotions he had tried to keep down for weeks. It's as if the dam had finally broken and the emotions wouldn't stop flowing out.

Citron pulls back his chair and gently eases Sakuya’s arm from his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it rings loud in his ears. “Sakuya, deep breaths. Match it with mine.”

He doesn’t push away Citron. The small circles the prince rubs on the back of his hands ground him, and he could breathe a little easier. A new wave of tears come when he thinks about April.

Sakuya just knows that he wouldn’t give himself time to mourn. Knowing his family was suffering while he couldn’t do anything… almost hurt as much as losing two of his family in one night. It hurts. It hurts. _It hurts._

He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Citron and burying his face in his shoulder as he cried. His throat hurt, and his head was spinning. Citron was humming a Zahran lullaby as he let Sakuya cry in his arms. Sakuya knew Citron smelled of spices and jasmines, and even if he couldn’t smell them right now, Citron’s presence was comforting enough. It was comforting to have someone hold you as you cry, and he feels the fatigue of the last weeks catch up to him.

Sakuya tries to remember the last time he cried like this before he dozes off. Nothing comes to mind.

Sakuya’s surprised to feel himself on a bed when he wakes up. His eyes feel dry, and his throat feels uncomfortably raw. Fatigue still makes his body heavier than usual. Citron was reading a book at the low table, a cup of tea in front of him. There was a steaming pot of tea on the table, and the faint scent of jasmine makes him sleepy. But his phone rings with an alarm beside his pillow, and he bites back a groan. 

There were only a few days he could afford to take off the surveillance mission, so even if he didn’t want to get out of bed, there was no choice. Based on the bug he had put in faculty, the target still hasn’t made any move. But it was getting closer to the exchange’s predicted date, and he had to make sure all bases were covered.

_“Oh, you’re up, Sakuya. Good morning.”_

_“Good morning, Citron.”_ There’s a bit of triumph when he finds the right language to respond in. Zahran was unlike other languages he’s learned, and it was genuinely fun trying to study it.

_“Have some tea. This jasmine tea tastes wonderful.”_

Wordlessly, Sakuya makes his way down the ladder. He wobbles a bit once he gets down, and he takes a moment to steady himself. Citron’s pouring the tea into a cup elegantly and gently slides it over to Sakuya.

_“How are you feeling?”_

Citron was more perceptive than the others gave him credit for, as expected of the heir of the Zahran throne. There was no use putting up white lies around Citron. _“Awful.”_

_"Shall I call in sick for you?"_

_"No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I'll be even more of a burden if I take off more days."_

_"But you're still not feeling well."_

_“It’s not like the world’s going to stop when I feel a bit unwell,”_ Sakuya manages a small but sincere smile. He knows better than that. Life was still going to force him to move forward somehow, even with his heart feeling heavy. _“I’ll manage.”_

Citron frowns, speaking after a long pause _“You can ask us for help. I know that you will not tell the whole story, but rest assured, the others and I are willing to help you.”_

Sakuya knows that, but this was his own problem. He couldn’t get the rest of Mankai caught up in the Organization. It wasn’t like they could bring August back to life or find December either. The odds of December still being alive were high, but he wouldn’t last long if the Organization was still out for him.

 _“I’ll think about it,”_ he sips the tea, yelping when it scalds his tongue. He blows on it as Citron puts the book down. His phone rings for the alarm to wake up Masumi and Banri, but he’s stopped by Citron. 

_“I’ll wake them up. You can get ready now.”_

_“But—”_

_“It’s no problem. You can take it easy.”_

Citron swiftly moves out of the room to avoid anymore protest, leaving Sakuya with the tea. He sighs. Dragging Masumi (and now, Banri) to school was a comforting constant, much like the “welcome home” and “I’m back” cycle with his family. But he couldn’t do one of them now.

He checks March’s phone to distract his mind. _There’s no new email?_ It only seemed like yesterday when mission emails came in like there was no tomorrow. It feels strange that he wasn’t preparing himself to stare at a computer screen for another night. He rubs at his eyes... just how many weeks has it been? Has it already been that long since that night? Since he has gotten sleep that was longer than two hours?

The tea’s lovely scent makes Sakuya yawn, but he reminds himself that he still had work. _I need to hold out for a few more days..._

Sakuya ends up wearing his too big Hana High blazer on top of the pink hoodie he had gotten for Christmas the other year. The hoodie fits better than it did two years ago, though the blazer remains too big on him. He doubted he can still grow at this age, but the extra size was a good hiding place for a knife or two. He doesn’t forget to put on some concealer to hide his dark circles.

Both Masumi and Banri looked more annoyed than awake at the table. Citron looks as cheery as ever, despite waking up two violent non-morning people. Tenma and Taichi were still scribbling on their worksheets in a hurry. Juza was sipping on a glass of milk. Omi chuckles as he slides a plate of breakfast on the table, “I’ll be making coffee. Do you guys want some?”

“Sure,” Banri yawns.

“Masumi says yes!”

“Stop… shaking me,” Masumi grumbles, still on the verge of falling asleep, even with Citron shaking him.

Omi looks up, smiling when he spots Sakuya in the doorway. “Good morning, Sakuya.”

“Sakuya! Good morning!” Taichi’s greeting is as bright as ever. Juza and Tenma’s greetings are more subdued but not less familiar. Breakfast with others feels odd, considering how he’s been almost absent in the dorms and meal times the last weeks. Despite his absence, it feels like he’s still welcomed. It makes Sakuya think that there are still a few things that haven’t changed, even if a part of his heart and life was gone. It’s comforting in a way.

Citron sees the three of them off, making sure they don’t forget their scarves or coats. Banri grumbled about the colder weather, zipping up his jacket all the way. Masumi gets a coat from the rack, and Banri takes it out of his hand when he realizes it’s Sakyo’s. It takes them a few minutes of sleepily leafing through the coat rack before they could leave. Sakuya waits by the door drowsily, jumping when Citron taps his shoulder. He hands him their lunch bag with a smile.

“Have a nice day, Sakuya.”

“I’ll… try to.”

Sakuya stirs to Banri, gently shaking him awake, "Oi."

"Mhm…"

Once the three of them had sat down for lunch, Sakuya had immediately dozed off. It wasn’t like he wanted to, but he’s been floating in and out of sleep during class. Even after napping, his eyelids still feel heavy. It was already snowing, making him doze off quickly. Banri was also warm and comfortable to sleep on. _This must be how December feels… I’m still sleepy._

“I’m going back to sleep…”

“Oi! Wake up!”

Sakuya pouts as Banri shakes him harder. He finds himself jumping awake when something hard hits his chest roughly. It makes him feel a bit breathless.

Masumi stared him down, holding a lunchbox to his chest. Huh, were they already finished eating? “Director said we should make sure you eat. I’m not feeding you.”

“Thanks…” he takes it, rubbing his chest. Masumi could be really forceful when it was needed. Banri moves away a bit, enough for Sakuya to eat properly. The familiar scent of curry makes him smile. April and Izumi could’ve been curry buddies in other circumstances. They had a similar blend of spices, though April’s was spicier and had a wider variety. 

_April…_

“You okay?” It takes another light shake from Banri for him to swallow the first bite. The spicy curry burns at his throat, and he blinks away the incoming tears. It hurts but in a familiar way. He could still feel their gazes on him, even halfway through his lunch.

"Yeah! Thank you for the food!"

Sakuya really wishes he could tell them, but it would be putting them in more danger than anything. Even with how good a fighter the Autumn members were, they were still no match against the Organization. He doesn’t think he can bear losing Mankai, too… especially when he hasn’t even healed from August's death and December’s disappearance.

“You guys can go ahead. I have to meet my brother.”

Both Banri and Masumi turn to look at him with varying levels of surprise. The stare Masumi gives him is almost reminiscent of April’s. A sharp gaze that pierced through the lies. _He doesn’t believe me, does he?_ Sakuya really is happy to feel that Masumi had warmed up to him, though it meant that Masumi had an inkling when he lied or not. Not that he doesn’t mind, but it could get pretty bothersome in moments like this.

Banri raises an eyebrow, but shrugs, “If ya say so. We’ll just tell the Director you had to go run something.”

“Thank you, Banri. See you guys later!” He knows his smile oozes fake cheer, but he couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t like _they_ could see if it was fake from afar anyway. If his intuition was correct, they were after him. There was no need to involve two civilians in this.

Sakuya still feels Masumi’s stare as he turns the corner. He wishes Banri would steer Masumi away from this danger since he knows that he senses them too. They weren’t the usual delinquents; they were far more dangerous. They could even hide their killing intent.

They must know he’s an agent then.

While leading them into a relatively deserted alley, he sends an SOS to headquarters. The alleyways howl with the winter wind, bringing the sounds of assailants with it. Based on the sounds of their movements, there were more than five people. He wouldn’t be able to fend them off without injuries. That wasn’t even taking into account their builds, possible weapons, and backup. _Fifteen minutes._

Rare panic creeps up in his mind as he reaches into his school blazer and doesn’t feel the handle of his knives. The other blazer was due for laundry, and he’d forgotten to take out the weapons. Luckily, he hasn’t put that into the laundry yet. Unfortunately, he was screwed right now.

He was not going home without a few bruises (and probably a fractured bone, but nothing new).

Sakuya stops in the middle of an alley, dropping his bag and kicking it to the side.

“Who sent you?” His voice echoes in the alleyway, bouncing between the walls. No one replies for a long moment.

The sounds of combat boots hitting the pavement makes him drop his stance. He wasn't one for violence typically, but he was not in a diplomatic mood today. There’s a bit of wild glee when he lands a punch on the goon that tried to punch him. He doesn’t wince when their head turns to the side with a crack.

Sakuya sidesteps another punch. He lands an elbow on the man’s back, sending him to the pavement. He ducks under a punch and lands a punch to their solar plexus. The man gasps for air as they stumble back. He lands a spinning kick on one of them, avoiding an attempt to get tripped.

Despite his light footwork, the goons eventually get the upper hand. There were just so many, and it seemed like they kept attacking as fast as he knocked them out. With fatigue still weighing him down, he runs out of stamina faster than expected. All it took was a misstep before one of the men was able to send him to the ground, clutching his abdomen and gasping for air. _Fuck, I think that broke something…_

“This is the kid that the boss was worried about? Doesn’t seem like much.” The man forces Sakuya to stand up by his hood. He holds the jacket away from his neck to avoid losing air with the last of his strength. He doesn’t even feel his feet on the pavement.

“Whatever. The kid was able to take down half of us. Boss has a fair reason to be worried,” a gruff voice replies. 

_Why is backup taking so long? I’m so tired already…_ Was it fatigue that was messing with his sense of time? Or was there really too many enemies for a single person to handle?

“Oi Settsu!”

The familiar voice echoes in the alleyway just as Sakuya contemplates succumbing to exhaustion. _Banri… Juza? What are they doing here? Wait, no! They’re going to be_ —

“Hand him over or you’re gonna regret it, assholes!”

The rest of the goons were alarmed, but they’re silenced with a few hits. The person holding him even reacts in shock, and he sends a backward kick to the man’s sensitive area. He lands on the ground and sends an uppercut to the other goon. He doesn’t wince when it makes his head turn up with a crack. 

Sakuya makes quick work of knocking out the goons along with Banri and Juza. They were a bit sloppy compared to his moves, but they were almost on par with him for street fighters. With only a few more goons left, Sakuya finally allows himself to collapse on the cold pavement, no more adrenaline fueling him.

Everything hurt all over. This was worse than training… Sakuya won't probably get out of bed for a week at most. He takes a deep breath and winces when his abdomen stings. He takes another deep breath and smiles in relief when it doesn’t prick in the next breaths. Okay, at least he didn’t need to go to the hospital for a broken rib.

Juza appears in his line of view, a worried expression offsetting the bruise on his knuckle. From the ground, he looked like an angel. “How are you?”

“Do you even use those eyes, Hyodo?” Banri groans, knocking out the last grunt without any effort.

“They didn’t break a rib,” Sakuya chuckles, instantly regretting it when it makes his chest hurt. “Ow.”

Juza flinches. Banri eyes his injuries more closely, “Oh, you got really fucked.”

Juza offers a hand to Sakuya, who takes it. Sakuya leans on Juza as he supports him by the waist. Despite his face and stature, he was gentler than people took him for. _Warm too..._

“What’s those guys’ problem anyway? Beatin’ a kid in an alley sounds like they’re pretty out to get ya.”

“I got into a scuffle with them one time,” Sakuya mutters, “called the police already.”

“We better run then. Sakyo’s gonna burst a vein if we get in trouble with the police again." 

“Right.”

Sakuya swipes his schoolbag off the ground, even when Juza tried getting it for him. Worry radiated off the taller boy in waves, and he even spots Banri eyeing the bruise on his cheek. He faintly remembers that none of the Autumn members had seen him in work mode yet. _This must be new then…_

Sakuya gestures to the alley behind them, “Here, there’s another exit. We won’t get caught.”

Both of them don’t move until they hear the sounds of boots approaching. _They’re here._ Neither of them should cross paths with the Organization, no matter the situation. Even breathing was proving to be painful, the more they walked. Sakuya stumbles, but he’s supported by Juza, and they speed walk. Through the haze in his mind, he faintly recalls Juza yelling at Banri to wait. He mutters out the directions, even with his head spinning.

A few minutes later, they’re at the other side of the alleys. The greenery of the park across them is bathed in an orange glow. Sakuya faintly notes that it’s all beginning to look the same shade of orange. His heartbeats begin to ring too loud in his mind, and he suddenly can’t feel his limbs anymore.

It's easier to melt to the warmth beside him than to keep standing up. He really doesn't want to be a burden, but everything hurt so much. He recognizes Banri's voice, but it sounds muddled. Juza's hold on him gets firmer as he collapses, but not less gentle. _They're safe now… I'm safe too..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from [seventeen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9h80Sr15n4M&ab_channel=HeathersMusicalLyrics) from heathers!
> 
> something i considered in the fight scene: sakuya would be faster and lighter on his feet because of his small build, while banri, juza, and omi would have more strength in their hits. 
> 
> three updates for this month since im trying to write as much as i can schoolwork gets heavy!


	8. cooldown, warmup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakuya recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes you* hello, i'm back. i hope you enjoy this chapter, since i enjoyed writing it after falling into writer's block!
> 
> content warning: vomiting, sickness

"That’s an interesting book." 

April slammed the book shut, turning to glare at March. The couch he sat on squealed from the sudden action, the lamp flickering a bit. April hadn’t even felt him approach the couch. The teen didn't look affected by the glare at all, only tilting his head. March rested his bandaged arms against the back of the sofa, resting his head on his crossed arms.

April scowled. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, brat?”

“I got thirsty. Didn’t you also get injured earlier?”

April sighed, “I’m not the one who needed stitches. August’s gonna get mad if he sees you’re up.”

“Fine, fine.” March dismissed, but he didn't move. April spotted him glancing at the book he tried to hide. The astronomy encyclopedia’s golden foil caught light even when he attempted to cover it with his sleeve. March craned his neck a bit further to see it. April inched it away from his sight. March leaned forward even further. They kept up the childish game of hiding the book until April finally sighed.

_“What.”_

“I didn’t know April liked astronomy. I remember learning about constellations when I was still in school!” Despite his pale face, March still had a bright smile. “What’s your favorite one, April?”

April tensed. Even if it’s been three years since March arrived, he still didn’t feel comfortable with sharing a dream from his childhood. He saw March as a nuisance at first, but he was steadily and rapidly improving under August’s tutelage. He could now hold his own against the other agents, and August was already planning on teaching him hacking next week. December immediately got along with the brat, yet April still had some reservations. There was always a part of him that hesitated to be vulnerable.

 _“We’re family now!”_ The August in his head insisted. Being a family meant vulnerability, and April found it hard to open his heart again. Though, both August and December wormed their way into his heart, so it wasn’t like he allowed himself to be vulnerable. April glanced at March, who was still patiently waiting for him to answer.

April internally sighed. March wasn’t going to leave without an answer, and he probably would bug April about it for the next few days. He supposed he could divulge this, at least. That wasn’t vulnerability, right? 

“Ursa Major.”

“That’s…” March fiddled with the stray edge of the bandage, pausing. “...The bear, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s cool! I think the Big Dipper is nice.”

“It’s part of Ursa Minor.”

“It has a friend? That’s adorable.” With March’s enthusiastic grin, April couldn’t bear to tell him the story behind the constellations. It wasn’t a story for children.

“It’s not alone, don’t worry.” What was April saying?! Why should he be concerned if a _constellation_ had a friend or not? It wasn’t even a companion if he was basing it on the stories. 

“I’m glad.” March yawned, already rubbing at his eyes. “Do you think we can see it tonight?”

“Go to sleep already.”

“April.” March pouted, and April pinched the spot between his brows. Even with his injuries, he was still so bright. Like a mini-August, but way more energetic. The wounds hadn’t seemed to dilute his cheerfulness. 

“I’ll take you stargazing when you get better. Go back to sleep now.” March could be as stubborn as a mule, and while it worked like a charm in training, April found it bothersome in situations like this. He was a hard worker, and it would take some convincing for him to take a break. March was almost on par with December’s refusal to wake up if there weren’t marshmallows around.

March blinked, “Huh? April will?”

“What’s with that.” 

March shook his head before grinning, “Okay then! Let’s take August and December too.”

December would sooner fall asleep than gaze at the stars, but if this was the only way he could get March to sleep now, then he’ll leave it a problem for his future self. This week’s moon was on its waning crescent, which meant they could see the stars more clearly if they waited a few more days. 

It’s strange how some kind of anticipation bubbled up in April at the thought of going stargazing with his family. It wasn’t that exciting in hindsight since he’s always preferred stargazing on his own. But he supposed it wasn’t too bad if he had spicy snacks on hand.

_Burning._

_Hot._

_Everything hurts._

Sakuya’s body feels so heavy, and he finds the thick blanket way too hot. He’s already swimming in his own sweat, and it was disgusting. Even the towel on his forehead had more sweat than water. There’s also a persistent pain in his head, one that gets worse when he finally opens his eyes. The darkness of the room doesn’t make it easier on his head. He tugs the blanket off himself, not surprised to find that his limbs hurt too. It doesn’t do anything to ease the icky warmth. The bruise on his knuckles was already yellowing, and then he remembers the haze of the fight.

He’d apologize to Banri and Juza for troubling them once he got better, mostly since this was his own problem. Although they were strong and competent fighters—that was all too evident in their stage fighting—they were no match to whatever group they sent after March. It was his duty to keep them safe as much as he could. He hates the thought of getting Mankai tangled up in work.

Sakuya takes several deep breaths while pressing spots around his abdomen. To his relief, it hurt a lot less, and he could breathe a bit easier. Even if his nose and throat were congested, he’d take a cold than a broken rib any day. He takes a slow and deep breath, yet that makes his throat act up. His stomach acts up, and he has to put a hand over his mouth to make himself not vomit right there. 

Nausea passes, and he takes a deep breath. Sakuya slowly makes his way down the ladder, his injuries pulsing with every little movement. A wave of dizziness overtakes him when he touches the floor, and he clutches the ladder to steady himself. The cold floorboards under his feet are refreshing from the heat he had woken up in. Like a mantra, he reminds himself that he healed quickly. 

This would pass.

Sakuya makes quick work of grabbing two water bottles from the stash under his desk. It takes a bit of patting around in the dark to find them, but he’s soon making up the ladder slowly. His bruises still hurt, and it’s a great relief when he finally lies back down. He doesn’t open it immediately, preferring to hold one of the bottles to cool down his head. 

The coolness of the water makes the headache recede, and his throat feels less dry, and Sakuya finds it less grueling to have his eyes open. With the pain duller than before, he hears the door open. He spots Citron against the bright backdrop of the garden, along with the faint splashes of water. He shut his eyes at the brightness, making a small noise of pain, and the door was immediately closed.

"Sorry, Sakuya," Citron whispers, making his way close to him.

Sakuya finds speaking hard, so he settles for an affirmative mumble. Citron squeezes the water out of the soaked towel.

“How much does it hurt?”

“...A lot.”

Citron makes his way up the ladder, the ladder squeaking from his weight. Sakuya slowly opens his eyes and finds Citron staring at him with a worried expression. It’s unlike his everyday expressions, and Sakuya hates how he knows he caused that. He doesn’t miss the almost little lift of the prince’s lips, despite his attempt to frown, “You’re awake.”

“Sorry.”

Citron blinks. “Huh?”

Sakuya lets Citron change out the towel on his head before responding. “For worrying everyone.”

There’s a chuckle, and the frown gives away to Citron’s relieved smile. He crosses his arms and leans against the railings of the loft. “Do not worry about it. We’re just glad you’re feeling better. Can you eat yet?”

Sakuya’s stomach grumbles, and he feels warm from embarrassment rather than fever. Citron lightly laughs. “I’ll tell the Director you can eat now. But it will taste very bland since you’re still sick.”

Sakuya can’t reply when a deep cough interrupts him.

“Sleep more, okay? We’ll wake you up when your food’s ready.”

“M’kay.”

Sakuya waits until he hears Citron’s footsteps fade away. The changed towel clears away the haze in his mind, even for a bit. He contemplates falling asleep before his eyes shoot open. _Work._ He didn’t have anyone to call in sick for him, and the organization would begin dispatching agents if he didn’t at least ping them. He doesn’t even know how many hours it’s been. 

Both of his phones are by his pillow, and he ignores the headache from the phone’s light. 10:32 AM. He grimaces upon seeing the date—it’s been a day since the fight. There’s a notification for an email and goes to his emails. Sakuya squints at seeing the email’s subject. _Vacation Leave._

_...Your seven (7) day vacation leave is approved._

_Hoshino Kyousuke has had the information leaked to him; thus, you are ordered to lay low until an update on Mission 3030917 is sent. Do not leave Hanasaki Private Academy or Veludo until an order is given._

_You are also assigned a new mission. The mission file is attached below._

Vacation leave? Sakuya flicks up, and he’s surprised to find an email that he supposedly wrote yesterday. He had two weeks’ worth of vacation leave if he remembered correctly. A week off sounded nice, but he’ll get swamped with work once it’s over. He grimaced at the thought.

The information was leaked, huh? Which meant that Hoshino, the vice-principal of Hanasaki, definitely knew that someone was out for him. Sakuya would gather suspicion if he transferred in the middle of the year. _Can I stay here?_

Sakuya opens the mission file, and—

He knows the language. He was more accustomed to speaking Zahran than reading it, but he could not mistake the script for any other language. It takes a while for him to scan the email, then he rereads it—relief blossoms in his chest when he realizes what this mission meant.

_I can stay here._

Sakuya stirs to light chatter and the sound of the door closing. His head hurts a lot less than earlier, but his airways don't feel less congested. _This sucks._ He could recognize the footsteps as Itaru’s and Tsuzuru’s, even if it were softer with their slippers. He opens his eyes, and the lights cause a faint headache. Itaru was holding the small basin of water, and Tsuzuru carried a tray with a bowl of soup.

“Hey, Sakuya,” Itaru greets. Sakuya weakly waves and tries to sit up, only for a cough to attack him. Tsuzuru climbs up the ladder and helps him sit up.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” Sakuya’s voice comes out hoarse, and he internally cringes. Tsuzuru frowns.

“Sakuya.” Tsuzuru starts, and Sakuya recognizes the tone. It was from the times August scolded them for getting too reckless on a mission. Or when they wouldn’t call in after a mission because August worried a lot. He never thought that he’d be getting scolded by Tsuzuru, but he understood where the worry was coming from. Tsuzuru liked taking care of others, after all. _Just like he did..._

“We didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by hounding you with questions, but I think we already have to step in. Do you know how scary it was when Banri and Juza carried you in, all bruised up? Then when you began running a fever when Citron went to check on you? Not to mention the all-nighters you’ve been pulling ever since you disappeared for three days.”

Tsuzuru cuts himself off with a sigh.

After a few moments, he smiles with relief. “But we’re glad you’re okay, Sakuya.”

“Sakuya?”

“I…” Tsuzuru and Itaru look at him expectantly. He puts a hand over his mouth, sweat running down his face, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Itaru quickly hands him a bucket.

Sakuya wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He collects his thoughts for a few more minutes before finally looking at them. It feels so wrong looking at them without any mask on, but he reminds himself that he could show the true him around them.

Now that his fever has gone down marginally and he’s able to think more clearly, he feels bad for making them worry so much. He’s the Spring Troupe leader. He shouldn’t be making them this worried! Even if he couldn’t tell them everything, they’ve all grown closer in the past months. Close enough to easily see through the omissions and lies he made. But never once did they pry into his life. They just let him do as he pleased, welcoming him back as if he just went to the convenience store. It was such a nice constant that he’s never known, but it doesn’t feel foreign. Was he used to this deep down?

He’s ready to reply, but Tsuzuru speaks first.

"You helped us get through RomiJuli, so even if you won't tell us what’s wrong, we'll still help you out when we can."

Warmth blossoms in his chest at Tsuzuru’s words. He didn’t have to rush telling them about August and December. He will tell them sometime… it could even help him sort out his feelings. He hadn’t talked to anyone about this problem yet. Maybe that was what he needed. Talking it out with someone.

"I guess the Spring Troupe’s big brother really knows what to say, huh?” Itaru teases, his tone light.

“Like you weren’t worried too, Itaru.”

“I didn't think Sakuya would be a delinquent too, kinda unexpected," Itaru chuckles.

Sakuya laughs when Tsuzuru sighs at Itaru’s words, “Don’t leave us for the Autumn Troupe, okay? You’re the reliable Spring Leader, after all.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Sakuya croaks out, and despite the hoarseness of his voice, he doesn’t feel too bothered about it this time.

Tsuzuru chuckles, “I’ll make some tea after this. Eat up first.”

The soup is so terribly bland with only salt as the seasoning, and his first instinct was to put some spices to feel the familiar burn. But it would probably make his stomach feel even worse. The soft noodles and vegetables make it a little less tasteless. He can’t eat it all, especially when his stomach begins acting up again. The medicine helps in relieving the fever pains and bruises.

Itaru begins telling anecdotes from work, and Tsuzuru joins him. It’s like an etude, Sakuya muses. Itaru tells him a story from work about him getting off the wrong floor and running up two flights of stairs to get in time for a meeting. Sakuya supposes that it was meant to make him laugh, but there’s a bit of awkward silence after he finishes. _We need to work on comedy… I’ll ask Tenma for pointers._

After Itaru changes the towel on his head, Sakuya almost falls asleep instantly. He jolts from the beginning of sleep as a painful cough wracks his body. Itaru turns to him, “Sakuya? Do you need something to drink?”

“No, but… I’m really sorry for worrying everyone.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” 

Tsuzuru looks taken aback by the sharp response but doesn’t speak. “There were some… family problems during these last few weeks. But even then, I didn’t have to make everyone worry. I’ll make it up once the entire is settled.”

Tsuzuru stares at Sakuya contemplatively before he smiles, “Don’t worry about it. You can take your time. Just don’t push yourself like that again, okay?”

“You don’t have to tell us either if you’re not comfortable with it,” Itaru adds. “But we’re willing to offer help when you need it. You can depend on us too.”

“I…” Sakuya swallows the itch in his throat, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“...ya. Sakuya.”

He woke up for the third time that day to Juza’s voice. There was also the scent of ginger that made him nostalgic. His airways felt less congested, yet there was still the persistent itch in his throat. He opened his eyes and saw Juza at the foot of the ladder, holding a mug in one hand and several notebooks in his other hand. The light didn’t make his head hurt like earlier. It seems like the medicine helped a lot.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I think so.” At least Sakuya wasn’t feeling nauseous this time.

“Masumi wanted to give this. Says it’s something his grandma would make when he was sick.”

“Masumi?” Juza lifts the mug for Sakuya to get. He suddenly turns away when a cough, a less painful one, wracks his chest. The drink smells of lemon, mint, and ginger, and.... some other thing. His congested nose can’t recognize the smell at all. It’s too faint to pick up. 

_Masumi made this…?_ The drink wasn’t sweet, but it was soothing to his throat. There was a dash of tabasco that followed after the mint. It didn’t make his stomach upset and instead provided a pleasant aftertaste. It was pretty good. It tastes even better when Sakuya thinks of the care Masumi had put into this. 

“Do you need bandages or somethin’? Your wounds looked pretty bad...”

“No, but thank you.”

“If ya say so.”

He's gotten worse injuries compared to this, so the scrapes and bruises were nothing. He wouldn't even be standing here if he couldn't bear these much, at least. The Organization would have thrown him out a long time ago. The fever made him so weak, and the lack of sleep and cold weather made him catch a cold faster. Unlike December, Sakuya needed more layers to keep warm in the cold. It sucked when they had missions that stationed them in colder countries.

“Sakuya.” Juza starts, snapping Sakuya out of his thoughts. He fiddles with the cover of his notebook. “Thought I could keep you company while I do homework. It’s easy to go into negative thoughts when you’re sick and alone.”

Sakuya blinks. If he got sick, which was rare, he’d usually just sleep the day away. April, August, and December weren’t always around to take care of him when he was sick. But, he does understand it from a civilian’s perspective. They had the luxury of safety, after all.

Juza seemed to take his silence as rejection, turning away. His disappointment was visible, and it made Sakuya feel guilty. “‘Tis okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“...Okay.”

Juza looks around the room awkwardly before deciding on the low table. He seems strangely elegant despite his frame, Sakuya muses. Juza opens his notebook. Sakuya cradles the mug in one hand with his phone in the other. There were some get-well messages on LIME from the Mankai group chat, 3-D class chat, and Spring group chat. He quickly replies to all of them, chest feeling tingly at all the kind messages.

April still hasn’t read his messages, and he doubts he’ll read them anytime soon.

He watches Juza from his bunk bed, finding it an interesting sight as he mutters the answers to himself. He strains his ears a bit, and he finds that Juza’s working on an English assignment.

“ _He… gotten the test results yesterday…?_ That doesn’t sound right...”

“ _He got the test results yesterday._ _Gotten_ is also correct, but _got_ fits more in this sentence.”

Juza jumps.

“S-Sorry for being too loud,” Juza mutters, clutching his pencil. He looks apologetic, not an expression you’d always see on a delinquent. _Former delinquent,_ Sakuya corrects himself. Juza was willing to make changes, after all. His drive to change was admirable. 

Sakuya chuckles, “I really don’t mind it. I could even help you with English if you want.”

“But you should be resting.”

“I’ve slept for too long already. Anything else you’re struggling with?”

Though Juza showed his assignments reluctantly, they soon got through the pile. By the time they had finished, the mug had long gone cold. The drink Masumi made really soothed his throat. It feels less scratchy now, and it wasn’t as taxing to talk. Juza didn’t speak much, and Sakuya was grateful that he didn’t have to strain his voice. 

As Juza reviews the answers, Sakuya remembers the date. It was thankfully a weekend today, so he didn’t have to miss school. He missed a quiz yesterday, and the auditions for the Winter were today. “What’s the Winter Troupe like?”

Juza looks up from his worksheet. He didn’t answer immediately, tapping his pencil on the table contemplatively. He nods to himself after a while. “Thick.”

“Thick?”

Sakuya frowns. Was that a metaphor? He doesn't recall any metaphor for that, even in other languages. _Thick, thick, thick… does he mean thick-skinned?_

"You'll get it when you see them... one of them, at least." 

“I see.”

“Tsumugi’s pretty experienced…” he pauses. “We got Tasuku too. He’s from God Troupe.”

“God Troupe? So Taichi knows him?”

“Yes. Seems Tasuku left the God Troupe after the shit Reni made Taichi do. Says he’s been blacklisted by all other troupes, and the Director accepted him in.”

“He sounds like someone who has standards,” Sakuya smiles. _Only go after targets, and not people._ Despite August’s background, it was one of the first things he had taught them.

“He’s cool. The Winter Troupe’s all adults.”

“Interesting. It’s never too late to start acting, after all! We got Sakyo as an example.”

Juza smiles, “Yeah. It’s never too late.”

“I thought it was impossible for me, honestly.” Getting out of spywork was near impossible. You’d have to throw away all your identities, erase all of your traces, and stage a death that would be impossible to get out of. All for a peaceful life. While managing this double life was exhausting, it wasn’t impossible. “But the Director didn’t mind, even if I had no idea on acting at first. I had no theater experience before joining, so I worked really hard. I think everyone can get the hang of something if they really want it!”

“You…” Juza’s eyes were wide in disbelief. “...you had no experience before this?” 

“Yes?” Sakuya doesn’t manage to hide his confusion. He could count the infiltration missions as practice, but they were different from theater. Unlike a mission, you can mess up on stage without getting injured or killed. You didn’t have to have your guard up frequently, especially since that had backfired on Sakuya once. 

“But you were like a pro in Romeo and Julius…”

Sakuya blinks, “You watched RomiJuli?”

Juza refuses to look at him, but he clears his throat, “...I saw you and Masumi with that RomiJuli street act. But I couldn’t watch the play.”

“I think Director has a recording of it. You can ask her. It’s good to see others act for reference! There was one rendition of Romeo and Juliet we watched in Italy that I loved, so I based my acting on that actor.”

“Italy?" Juza’s jaw drops. “Like the country?”

“Yep! Whenever we’d have time, I’d take my brothers to theater shows… There was this one performance of _The Phantom of the Opera_ that…”

Even if Sakuya was sure that he was rambling, Juza seems to hang on to his every word, even asking a few questions on the way. Citron pokes his head into the room a few hours later, carrying several tins of gingerbread cookies. It was a gift from the kind ladies at the shopping district, apparently. The gingerbread cookies tasted generic and too sweet. Though he wished to bake his own, he supposed this was okay for now. Citron had also shared his own stories about theater, and it was equally fascinating to hear a performance where they used a trapeze.

Juza was still listening intently and even taking notes of their stories. Sakuya had to remind him not to write on the math worksheet that was due next week. Like all things, they couldn’t continue talking into the night. Sakyo knocked on the door and informed them that it was lights out, and he was going to turn off the circuit breaker soon. 

Sakuya would be lying if he didn’t admit that Sakyo’s _“We’ll talk when you get better, Sakuma”_ wasn’t ominous. What could Sakyo want to talk about? Has he discovered his job? Whatever it was, Sakuya had to prep himself for all the possibilities. (He didn’t want to leave, but it’s not like he could, with the new mission.)

The weather is getting much colder as the snowfall continues. It took a bit of persuasion from the rest of the Spring Troupe and the Director; he’d finally promised to get six hours of sleep at least. But there were just some nights he couldn’t sleep, even with exhaustion from the fever.

It was already past 1 AM when he exited their room. No matter how long he tried to keep his eyes shut or how many jackets he put on, he just couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to bother Citron by tossing and turning in his loft constantly.

Sakuya isn't expecting much as he steps out to the hallway. Maybe a warm drink could help him sleep. He was admittedly getting hungry too since he couldn’t stomach the soup earlier, so he took the tin of gingerbread cookies with him. 

The courtyard had a faint dusting of snow. The tree in the courtyard had no more leaves, and no blossoming flowers were insight. Sakuya sniffles when the wind blows into him. He notices a light-haired figure crouching in the garden, petting a black cat. _...Misumi?_ Sakuya’s about to call out to them until he notices the shade of their hair. 

_No._

His blood runs cold when his eyes adjust to the darkness.

_Nonononononono._

The cat’s golden eyes focus on him, and it immediately scampers off to the bushes. The person tilts their head and stands up. The realization hits him like a punch when he gauges their height. They turn around too quickly for Sakuya, and it brings tears to his eyes when he sees those familiar green eye.

"Who are you?"

That exposed green eye didn’t have an inkling of recognition in them. Not even a shadow of recognition.

"I'm…" this was just a dream, right? No need to get nervous. He smiles, "Sakuya Sakuma. Like the character for "bloom"! Nice to me—"

He clams up suddenly, yet December's ghost doesn't seem too bothered. He tries to make a sound, but it’s as if his throat had closed up. He fakes a cough into his hand. In an almost familiar way, December tilts his head slowly, "Hisoka Mikage."

No, no, no. This had to be a dream, right? There was no way December was actually standing in front of him. He had taken the drug. It was in the report. He was supposed to be de—

"I didn't see you at dinner."

Sakuya forces himself to laugh. His own hollow laughter grates at his ears, "I've been sick, so I can't join everyone yet."

December always had a monotone tone to his voice when he wasn't falling asleep, and the ghost perfectly mimicked it. He had to be a ghost. There was no explanation why he was here in front of him, looking as he always did. Unless he was an impostor, but even then, no one could perfectly emulate the absence of emotion in his voice nor his relaxed slouch.

The silence is disturbed by a rumbling stomach, and Hisoka puts a hand to his abdomen. It's sickeningly familiar. Sakuya can't help but extend the tin to him, a small smile on his face. "Here. They're just gingerbread cookies. I hope you don't mind."

Hisoka closes the gap between them, footsteps silent as ever. The foil crinkles under his touch. He bites at the cookie experimentally, but there's no light of recognition in his eyes. None of the childish glee when he would take a freshly baked cookie. He'd usually complain that it was too spicy, but he'd eat it regardless. He missed seeing December stir from his naps when the scent of gingerbread started wafting in from the kitchen.

He nods, after finishing the cookie, "It's good."

"Do you remember?" 

It's a sudden question and one that he wasn't supposed to ask. Hisoka eyes him suspiciously. He quickly adds, "Your favorite food! Juza mentioned something about sweets earlier."

The suspicion ebbs away as Hisoka takes the last gingerbread man. "Marshmallows."

“I-I see.” Sakuya raises a sleeve to cover his eyes. He was frankly getting sick of all the crying lately, but the last few weeks had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It seemed like crying was the only way to work through his feelings that wasn’t working himself into exhaustion or snapping at others. He hasn’t gathered up his thoughts (and courage) to tell the rest of Spring yet, too. It seemed cruel that December—wait no, he was Hisoka Mikage now—showed up when he was just beginning to sort out his feelings. 

How was one supposed to react when you’ve accepted a family member’s death, only for them to come back as a hollow husk wearing a familiar face?

“...Are you okay?”

There’s hesitation in Hisoka’s voice. Sakuya frantically rubs his eyes and nose on his sleeve, shaking his head. Ew, he’d have to get his pajamas washed soon. His sleeve feels icky in the cold.

Sakuya knows his smile doesn’t hold up with Decem— Hisoka. His family could easily through his fake smiles, after all. “Yeah. I’m just a bit sick. I’ll just get this to the kitchen, and I’ll be back in bed.”

Hisoka nods after a while, still eyeing him. The low light of the full moon makes his green eye glimmer with a piercing gaze. “Get well soon.”

“I… will. Good night—...” He swallows down the name he knows, reminding him that Hisoka wasn’t December. _He’s not December. He’s not December. He’s not December._ “...Hisoka.”

“...Good night, Sakuya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may have noticed that I've changed the summary twice, but i like this new summary more! let me know what you think!
> 
> if you're wondering "why juza?", banri was actually panicked when he was telling juza to get over there quickly. he feels bad doubting banri, because it was really a life-or-death situation, one that could've escalated badly. plus, when he hears sakuya has a fever, he gets reminded of kumon.


End file.
